Golden Boy
by LyingMonsters
Summary: Feliciano Vargas first moves to America during a searing summer of the seventies and crashes into Ludwig's life, who's trying to figure out his world with or without Feliciano in it.
1. Chapter 1

**I've never tried something like this.**

 **0o0o0o**

 _1972, America_

When Ludwig heard they were getting neighbors, he expected a lot of things. Gilbert had told him the stories about older kids who would steal your stuff and laugh when you asked for it back, or the little kids who would demand you played with them and screamed when you didn't. However, of all the things Ludwig was expecting when the big grey moving truck pulled into the driveway, Feliciano Roma Vargas was not one of them.

To be fair, even if Ludwig had been told that between the boxes labeled in a language he couldn't read and the dozens of canvases there would be a head of wild auburn curls and a very oversized paint smock, nobody could really prepared him for the shock of meeting the owner of both for the first time. Certainly, nobody could have warned him not to stand behind the gate connecting their gardens and therefore be in the way of Feliciano Vargas jumping down from his fence and colliding into him.

He looked up from the ground, pulling up the brim of his pageboy cap.

'Ciao, ciao, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there, Nonno always tells me I need to look where I'm going but I was distracted, look at the sky here! It's really blue, like...' He stopped. 'Oh, sorry, I really do need to think before I talk. What's your name?'

'Ludwig,' Ludwig said, not sure what else to say to all of _that_. The boy on the ground beamed and stood up, adjusting his cap.

'I'm Feliciano Roma Vargas, your new neighbor. How old are you?'

'I'm eleven.'

'Me too! I have an older brother, he's almost sixteen and his name is Lovino.'

'My older brother is almost seventeen.' Ludwig stifled a smile as Feliciano made a _you win_ face. 'His name is Gilbert.'

'Where is he?'

'I don't know. He writes, and so he's always out in town.' Ludwig pointed up to the window with the birdcage in it.

'I've never met a writer before.' Feliciano gestured to his paint-stained smock. 'I paint.'

Ludwig didn't typically do art, and instead pointed towards the moving truck. 'Who's that?'

A tall man stood among the boxes, gesturing wildly at the movers.

'That's my nonno.' Feliciano scrambled up on the fence, his mismatched sneakers wedging into the weathered planks.

'Careful, Feliciano!'

'I'm being careful!' Feliciano tried to catch himself, nearly tripping over his untied laces, and Ludwig grabbed his hand. 'Thanks,' he said breathlessly.

'I told you to be careful.'

'Well…' Feliciano didn't appear to have a response to that. He waved at his grandfather. 'Nonno, dov'è Lovino?'

'Dentro!'

'Si, si.' Feliciano squeezed his hand and jumped down from the fence. Ludwig bit his tongue to stop from reprimanding him to be careful again. 'My nonno takes care of me and Lovi, and that's because...it's how it is.' He let go, brushing back his hair, opened his mouth as if to continue, and shut it again. 'That's all.'

Ludwig didn't see what was so strange about it, because Gilbert and him were raised by their grandfather. Feliciano was plucking at the front of his paint smock now, brows furrowed, and Ludwig wanted to tell him that it wasn't a weird thing like he thought.

'You have a funny accent, you know, are you from Europe too?' Feliciano asked suddenly, and Ludwig let him change the subject.

'My grandfather moved us here from Germany. Where are you from?'

'Italia.' Feliciano's paint smock was now crumpled as well as dirty, but he didn't seem to care. 'I was worrying I'd be the only one from Europe for miles, and the first person I meet is you. America is looking good!' He held out two thumbs-up. 'E come si dice il tuo?'

'What?' Ludwig asked, completely baffled.

'And yours. How do you say Germany in German?'

'Deutschland.'

Feliciano laughed, and Ludwig noticed his eyes were a bright gold. 'I like it.'

'Thank you,' Ludwig said. Feliciano was studying him intently.

'You don't understand Italian?' he asked. 'At all?'

'No,' Ludwig said, feeling slightly defensive. 'There wasn't any opportunity to learn it, exactly.'

'Well, I'll teach you if you teach me German.' Feliciano smiled. 'Ludwig, dovresti saperlo, i tuoi occhi sono molto blu. Mi piacciono.'

' _What?_ ' Ludwig paused. 'I...do you want me to say something in German now?'

'Yes, please.'

'Ich mag deinen Akzent,' he tried, feeling heat rise to his face. 'Feliciano,' he added.

'What does that mean?'

'I'm not saying if you don't!'

'Oh.' Feliciano shuffled his feet. 'I'll tell you later. I'll see you, okay?'

'Okay.'

Feliciano climbed back over the fence, wobbling slightly, and hopped down on the other side. A few seconds later, Ludwig saw him run to his grandfather, chattering excitedly in Italian. His grandfather chuckled and ruffled his hair, and Feliciano turned and waved, beaming.

Ludwig waved back and ducked inside his own house, trying to process everything that had happened and finding himself smiling.

0o0o0o

Lovino was already sprawled out over the couch. He put down his book as they came in, and Feliciano noticed he hadn't bookmarked it, which meant that he hadn't been really reading it, and braced for the question he knew was coming.

'Who's the kid outside?' Lovino asked.

'Ludwig,' Feliciano said. Lovino picked up his book again, but didn't turn the pages. 'He's got blue eyes and he's eleven.'

'Who's the older one?' Lovino jerked his thumb outside, to where someone was leaning against the side of the house, watching their moving truck come in. When he saw them watching, he smiled surprisedly and waved. Lovino looked away.

'His name is Gilbert, and he's a writer. You could go talk to him,' Feliciano offered. 'You could discuss your books. Ludwig can introduce you.'

'I'll stay here.'

'If you're staying, you can help unpack,' their grandfather called from the driveway. Lovino pulled a face.

'You really don't want to help us unpack?' Feliciano teased.

'It's better than that,' Lovino complained. Their grandfather poked his head inside and laughed.

'Go on, Lovino, make some friends! Feliciano already has,' he added. Lovino scowled.

'He always does.'

'Feliciano!' their grandfather said jovially. 'How old are the kids next door?'

'Eleven and seventeen.'

Lovino picked up the book again and pretended to ignore them. Their grandfather bent down and whispered exaggeratedly in Feliciano's ear.

'I think we've almost convinced him.'

Feliciano giggled.

Lovino waited until he was gone before groaning and standing up.

'May as well,' he grumbled, unlatching the window. He tossed his book from hand to hand, considering, before tucking it under his arm. 'Tell Nonno I'm studying, okay?'

'Okay,' Feliciano said, and Lovino paused long enough to smile before dropping out the low window and hopping the fence to Ludwig's house.

Feliciano went back to the driveway to help carry the boxes inside.

'Lovino's studying,' he dutifully informed their grandfather, who chuckled and glanced over to where Lovino was talking to Ludwig's brother. They really didn't resemble each other much, Gilbert had warm brown hair and eyes the colour of springtime, and he waved as he caught Feliciano watching. Ludwig was all gold with strong blue eyes, and he was tall, all of which made Feliciano want to paint him. He wondered when he'd come back out.

They unloaded the rest of the boxes and had to start ripping open the tape with box cutters, which Feliciano wasn't allowed to help with.

'Go get your brother. He can stop his studying and help his old grandfather for a bit,' Feliciano's nonno huffed, sawing at a stubborn flap. It gave suddenly, and he nicked his finger and said something Feliciano imagined he wasn't supposed to have heard. He left before he heard any more.

Lovino and Gilbert weren't in the shade of the house anymore, and Feliciano had to look around for them until he found them leaning against a tree down the road. Lovino was talking animatedly and smiling bigger than Feliciano had seen ever since they'd received the news that they would be leaving Italy.

'Nonno wants you to help him open boxes,' he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. 'Hello, Gilbert, and if this isn't too ridiculous, do you have band-aids?'

'I'm not Gilbert,' not-Gilbert said with a embarrassed smile. 'He's at-Gilbert's not home. I'm his friend, Antonio. And I do have band-aids. Who got hurt?' He offered a few. Feliciano took them.

'My nonno got cut open by the box cutter. We've never been good at opening boxes. Oh! We're the family that just moved in, but I guess you already know that. Sorry, Antonio.' Feliciano looked at Lovino, who was staring down the road. Feliciano craned his head and wondered if he was red.

'Are you a writer, Antonio, and that's why he likes you so much? Never mind, Lovino can see you later, I guess, but he's got to go now-'

Lovino grabbed his arm and forcibly led him away. Feliciano called his last goodbyes and stumbled to keep up with the pace.

'What's wrong?'

'You-' Lovino muttered something he'd probably picked up from their nonno under his breath. 'You didn't tell me he wasn't Gilbert.'

'Oh, so you called him Gilbert? Sorry, I didn't know what he looked like. Now that I think of it, Ludwig did say he was usually out, but at least it was one of Gilbert's friends and not someone random.'

'It's as good as random if you call them by the wrong name,' Lovino hissed, tugging him along faster. Feliciano noticed he had two new dog-ear bookmarks in his paperback.

'Lovino is here!' Feliciano announced, pulling him into the house. 'And Antonio had band-aids for you. Here, hold still, I'll put them on.' The band-aids had a tomato pattern.

'Who's Antonio?' their grandfather asked, smiling.

Lovino picked at the dog-eared pages of his book. 'Feliciano gave me faulty information.'

'It turns out that Ludwig's brother isn't home, but he has a friend named Antonio, who might also know the same books Lovino does,' Feliciano explained. They turned to Lovino to elaborate. He picked up the box cutter and started cutting the tape off their boxes of bedsheets.

'Feliciano, you can go fix the beds.'

A few hours later, the house had been furnished, or as furnished as Feliciano was willing to make it before having something to eat. Why he hadn't immediately found something to eat as soon as they reached America was now beyond him, even if he'd been starstruck by the country and then a little bit intrigued and amazed by whoever Ludwig was.

'Take off your hat at the table,' his nonno reprimanded, and Feliciano stuffed it in a pocket of his paint smock. 'And take that off, too! You aren't going to be painting at the table.'

Feliciano wriggled out of the heavy smock and was struck by an idea. 'Can Ludwig come over to eat?'

'I don't see why not. You can invite Antonio, as well,' he added conspiratorially, and Lovino scoffed and stirred the sauce faster.

'I don't know where he lives.'

'Well, Feliciano and I can go see the neighbors. If you don't want to come, can you watch everything to make sure it doesn't burn?'

'Yeah.' Lovino waved at them, now absorbed in keeping the pasta from sticking to the pot. 'The extra chair is in my room if you bring him over.'

Feliciano ran ahead to ring the doorbell and was faced by a severe-looking man with long blond hair. He had the same blue eyes as his son.

'Hello.' Feliciano had to lean back to meet his eyes. 'We're your neighbors-well, there's also my brother Lovino-and I was wondering if Ludwig wanted to come over for dinner?'

'I will ask.' He turned to the stairs. 'Ludwig, komm bitte nach unten.'

Ludwig appeared at the top of the stairs. Feliciano smiled-he really couldn't help smiling-and Ludwig's eyes widened, and then he smiled back.

'Do you want to come over for dinner? It's pasta. It's usually pasta, if you want to come over again after this, assuming you come now.'

'I would,' Ludwig said, glancing up at his father. He nodded, and then looked beyond Feliciano to where his nonno was following him up the path.

'This is my nonno,' Feliciano introduced.

'I'm Roma Vargas,' he said, and then paused. Feliciano turned to see a strange expression on his face. 'Aldrich?' he said quietly.

Aldrich nodded once. Feliciano's grandfather smiled, but it looked strained, and waved Feliciano towards the house. 'I'll catch up,' he assured them.

Feliciano hurried back towards the house, careful to watch out for loose rocks in the dusk. Ludwig followed, glancing back to where Roma and Aldrich had now shut the door behind them and were talking intensely.

'Where do you think they know each other from?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano told him he didn't know.

They sat down at the table. Lovino frowned.

'Where's Nonno?'

'He'll catch up,' Feliciano said vaguely. 'This is Ludwig.'

'I'm living with my grandfather and brother next door,' Ludwig said. Feliciano realized that Aldrich must be older than he looked. The hair made him look younger.

'We just moved in, but I expect you've heard that already,' Lovino said. 'I hope you like pasta at least a fraction as much as my little brother, because we have it a lot.'

Feliciano dragged the extra chair out and Ludwig smiled again as he sat down, and in the near-darkness of his first day in loud, bright America, he looked gold and happy and Feliciano felt the same.

 **0o0o0o**

 **This will probably be a longer story, and this is the first of two parts.**

 ** _:: Old music that makes you remember being happier_**


	2. Chapter 2

**I should research more about the seventies.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig was poking curiously at his food.

'Try it,' Feliciano urged. Ludwig did, and looked surprised.

'It's very good.'

'I know.' Feliciano was about to continue about how to cook pasta well, because a lot of people he knew didn't do it right, when his grandfather took his place at the table.

'Hello,' he said to Ludwig, who looked a bit awed.

'Hello,' he said back. Feliciano's grandfather shifted in his chair. There was still a strange cast to his eyes.

'Ludwig, is it? Could I ask you a few questions about your-'

'Nonno, we're eating,' Feliciano interrupted. Roma went quiet, picking at his food. Ludwig threw him a grateful glance, and Feliciano smiled back. 'Ludwig, you've lived here for a while, do you know Antonio?'

'I've only lived here for a few years, but I do know Antonio. He's Gilbert's friend.'

'Is Gilbert home right now?' Feliciano asked. 'We can invite him over, too.'

'No.' Ludwig looked away. 'He's at a...friend's house.'

'His girlfriend's house?' Roma chuckled, and Feliciano was the only one who saw Ludwig jerk in his seat like the words were a slap.

'No, just a friend. His name is Francis.'

'I've been telling Lovino to start looking for a girlfriend,' Feliciano's grandfather continued. 'Do you know any local girls?'

'Antonio has a cousin. And down the road, there's Elizabeta, but she's Gilbert's friend.'

'So she's spoken for?' Roma asked. Feliciano was watching Ludwig not meet anyone's eyes and decided he needed to remedy the situation.

'After Ludwig and I are done eating, can I show him the garden?' he asked.

'What's in the garden?' Lovino asked.

'It's all overgrown and there's a big apple tree,' Feliciano explained. 'I want to climb it.'

'Once you finish eating and wash up, you can go. But I'm worried you might fall out of the tree,' his grandfather cautioned. 'You know you aren't supposed to be jumping around so much after you fell off that one time.'

'I won't fall, I climbed up on top of the fence and I didn't get hurt.'

'You weren't supposed to be doing that, either.'

'I told you not to do that,' Ludwig interjected. Feliciano gave him a guilty smile and saw his answering thankful nod.

They both finished up and got outside, and Feliciano pulled his cap back on and took a deep breath of the cooler air. Ludwig followed, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. Feliciano looked back inside to where his grandfather was talking to Lovino. Neither were smiling.

'Thank you,' Ludwig said. Feliciano looked to him, happy to not be focusing on the serious conversation inside any longer.

'Nonno talks about girlfriends all the time. I'm good at changing the subject.' Feliciano shrugged, trying to sound casual, and sat down on the deck. Ludwig sat down next to him, fiddling with his hair. It was down, and he tried to push it back. It made him look older, more serious, and when paired with his worried eyes, pained.

'What are you doing?' Feliciano asked, and Ludwig dropped his hand in surprise.

'My grandfather wears his hair like that sometimes,' he explained.

'What about Gilbert?'

Ludwig glanced up in surprise. 'No. Not at all.'

Feliciano wanted to ask everything about Ludwig. He settled on asking one thing instead.

'That phrase in German you told me. You said you'd tell me what it meant.'

'Only if you tell me what yours meant.' Ludwig looked sideways at him, but Feliciano caught the flash of a smile.

'Okay, fine.' Feliciano scrambled for some words he could substitute and came up empty-handed. 'Ludwig, your eyes are really blue. That's what I said.'

Ludwig turned halfway towards the window as if to check. 'I...I never noticed.'

'They are.' Feliciano sat forwards. 'Now tell me yours.'

'I said I liked your accent.' Ludwig vaguely gestured, not meeting his eye. 'Italian is a Romance language, right?'

'Yes!' Feliciano dug in his pockets for paper. All the good paper was in his paint smock or upstairs, but he had a doodle of a bird he could use the back of. He wrote _Latin_ at the top, then three lines. 'See, Italian is descended from Latin, and so is French and Spanish, to an extent.' Another line connected Spanish and Italian. 'Italian is a little like Spanish, but I can't speak it.'

'May I borrow the pencil?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano handed it over. He wrote _Germanic_ in his bold handwriting on the other end of the paper. 'Vati tells me that German as well as English are Germanic languages, and so they sound similar.'

'I've heard English is like the middle point between the two language families because of all the Latin root words.' Feliciano counted off on his fingers. 'Words like art and blue are very similar in English and Italian. _Arte_ and _blu_. What's the word for art in German, Ludwig?'

'Kunst,' he said.

Feliciano took the pencil back and drew a line connecting English to Latin. Ludwig ran a finger over the line and met his eyes and offered a smile. The night air was heady and dark and earthy. Feliciano smiled back and grabbed his hand.

'Do you want to climb the tree now?'

The grass tickled their shins as they circled the tree. Feliciano folded up their language map and put it in his pocket.

'Ludwig,' he stage-whispered, and picked up a stick he saw at his feet. 'Come here.'

When he did, Feliciano tossed him the stick and brandished his own. Ludwig caught it and mirrored his position.

'Time to storm the castle,' he declared. 'Swords at the ready, brave knight?'

Ludwig looked at his sword and then at him. That smile was back, the curling, unabashedly happy one. 'Absolutely,' he said.

'First to that forked branch at the top gets the castle. Be ready for enemies,' Feliciano warned, lunging forward. Ludwig blocked the attack and instead of countering, grabbed the first branch and started climbing. 'Hey!'

'Come on, Feliciano,' Ludwig teased. Feliciano grabbed the branch below him and hauled himself up. They grabbed the forked branch at the same time.

'Tie,' Feliciano panted, collapsing onto a branch. Ludwig sat down across from him.

'Look.' He pointed towards his house. The window in the upper right was illuminated now, and there was somebody moving around.

'Is that Gilbert?'

'No. It's Vati.' Ludwig stripped the bark off his sword. 'Feliciano…I'll explain everything later. Gilbert can probably explain it better.'

Feliciano nodded, and they sat among the night noises and listened to an owl call.

'What is Gilbert like?'

Ludwig's face lit up. 'He's tall and his hair is completely white. So is his skin. It's because he's albino. He also has red eyes.'

'Wow!' Feliciano said. He itched to paint Gilbert even though they'd never met, to outline the differences between gold and silver colouring.

'He knows a lot about war.' Ludwig was quiet, then. 'You know about the war.'

'Yes.' Feliciano was suddenly aware of everything, and how heavy he felt thinking of war. 'Ludwig…'

'That's why we left.' Ludwig leaned back and gazed at the faraway moon. 'Because we were scared of the war starting again.'

Feliciano didn't have anything to say. Ludwig closed his eyes and opened them. Half a smile ghosted across his lips.

'Do you think that was cowardly?'

'No.' Feliciano tried to say anything. 'I think you're very brave.'

'You barely know me,' Ludwig pointed out. He was fiddling with his hair again.

'I know enough.' Feliciano reached out and Ludwig let him uncurl his hair until it was loose again. 'I'd like to know you better.'

'I would like to know you better as well.' Ludwig smiled. 'Is this...are we friends now?'

'If you'd like to be.'

'I would like that.'

'Feliciano? Ludwig?'

They both jumped. Feliciano's grandfather stood at the door, silhouetted in yellow.

'Time to come in!' he called. They exchanged one final glance before hopping down from the tree.

'I would like that,' Ludwig repeated. 'To be friends.'

'Me too.' Feliciano stuck his sword upright in a pile of mulch like Excalibur. 'Can I see you tomorrow?'

'Of course. And I'll bring Gilbert.'

'Deal.'

'Your grandfather is calling,' Roma told Ludwig when they reached the door. 'He's in the front.'

'Thank you.' Ludwig pushed back his hair again, and this time, Feliciano let him. He switched to German to talk to his grandfather, who nodded and led him away. He looked back and Feliciano caught his smile.

'Feliciano.'

'Yes?' Something was wrong. His grandfather looked older than usual.

'Can you go talk to Lovino? I'm worried I might have…' He trailed off. A pit opened up in Feliciano's stomach.

'I'll try,' he said. He had a bad feeling about what the talk might have been about.

He knocked on Lovino's door. Silence, and then the sound of a book being slammed shut.

'What do you want?' Lovino asked caustically. Feliciano eased open the door and his brother's gaze softened into guilt. 'Oh, Feliciano, I didn't know it was you.'

'What happened with Nonno?' Feliciano asked, sitting on his bed. There were already posters all over the walls, of writers. There were a few models, too, nearly covered in the corner. Lovino followed his gaze to them.

'The same deal every time about making friends.' He scoffed and picked his book back up. The same two pages were still bookmarked, and he flipped between them. 'It's nothing, really, Feliciano. Go to bed. It's late.'

'Are you friends with Antonio?' Feliciano asked, and Lovino looked too stunned to lie.

'I...we could be,' he said finally. 'Why?'

'I'm friends with Ludwig.'

Lovino's eyes flicked towards the window. 'I know,' he said. 'Go to bed.'

This time, Feliciano obeyed.

0o0o0o

When Feliciano first woke up, the entire past day seemed like a strange dream. He blinked away the sleep and the dusty sunlight before he looked out the window and realized, yes, he really was in America. All the emotions were twisted up in his body until he didn't know what to think. He laid back down and buried his face in the pillow and imagined that he was still in Venice, with the birdsong outside his window and the smell of water. He understood why they called it homesick, because it felt like a vital pieces of his heart had stayed behind in the flowers of that city.

The good thing about America was that Ludwig was here, and as Feliciano remembered everything that happened with him, he decided that even if America wasn't home yet, it was still good.

He ran downstairs, trying to adjust his cap. Lovino and Roma were at the table, silently eating.

'Feliciano!' his grandfather cried happily, and Lovino glanced at him in acknowledgement before staring at his toast again.

'Hello!' Feliciano said, sharply aware of the tension in the air.

'What are your plans for today?' his grandfather asked. Feliciano took a bite of toast and thought.

'I'm going to go see Gilbert. Lovino, you can come if you want, maybe Antonio will be there.'

'Maybe.' Lovino met his eyes for a second of silent agreement.

'Ludwig also mentioned Francis,' Feliciano said. 'After breakfast, I'm going to go-'

'You are going to help your brother mow the lawn,' he interjected. 'You're right, it's overgrown.'

'But it's like a jungle-!'

'Exactly. Go mow the lawn first, and I don't want to hear another word until it's done!' Roma chuckled and stole Feliciano's now unwanted toast.

0o0o0o

The motor didn't start the first four times, and Lovino cursed and kicked it, which meant that now it was leaking oil and still not working.

'Is Antonio a mechanic?' Feliciano asked helplessly, staring at the oil spill. Lovino shook his head mutely. 'Is Gilbert?'

'I don't want to go over and knock to say that I've broken our mower,' Lovino hissed. 'Gilbert hotwired a car once, Antonio told me. If he can do that, he can probably fix this piece of s-of trash.'

'How are you going to get to Gilbert if you aren't going to knock?'

Three minutes and five pebbles against Gilbert's window later Feliciano caught his first glimpse of Ludwig's brother. He really did have white hair and skin, and when his eyes caught Feliciano's, they were startling scarlet. And yet Feliciano could see his resemblance to his brother in the shape of their eyes and jaws and something proud about the way they held themselves.

'Vargas?' he asked. Feliciano just nodded blankly. 'What's got you two knocking on my window?'

'Our mower is broken and we were wondering if you knew how to fix it,' Lovino explained. Gilbert snorted.

'Of course.' He pushed the window up further and jumped down. He hopped the fence and began examining the mower. 'Antonio called me,' he directed towards Lovino. 'You're Lovino?'

'Yes.' Lovino seemed slightly fascinated by Gilbert's efficiency with the motor. He didn't seem cold, even though he was wearing a tank top and jeans in the dewy morning.

'And you're Feliciano?'

'Has Ludwig told you about me?' Feliciano managed. Gilbert looked up from the mower with a flicker of amusement.

'You could say that.' He flipped the cover back over the motor and stood up. 'There was just a piece caught. It should be fixed. The one good thing I learned how to do from…' He shook his head.

'Thank you,' Feliciano said. He knew Gilbert wasn't much older than Lovino, but he was strange and confident and Feliciano couldn't stop thinking of wanting to paint him as compared to his brother.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I have seen the seventies described as the era of 'Accept no imitation', which I find interesting.**

 ** _:: Old pictures you forgot you had_**


	3. Chapter 3

**I've been reading a lot of books about cities.**

 **0o0o0o**

'So.' Gilbert looked faintly amused still, a smirking curl to his smile as he nodded to Feliciano's brother. 'You're Antonio's?'

'No,' Lovino snapped, flushing red. 'Antonio and I are both our own damn selves. We don't have anything in common except knowing you.'

'Of course.' Gilbert turned to Feliciano, who was mesmerized by his coppery eyes. 'My little brother said you wanted to meet a writer.'

'Yes,' Feliciano squeaked.

'Well, you're in luck, because I'm the most awesome writer in this tiny American town, not that that's any sort of accomplishment.' He paused, apparently trying to think up a better title. 'Best writer this side of Houston, actually. Ask anybody.'

'Antonio says you write more letters than actual manuscripts,' Lovino interjected. Gilbert flashed him a smile.

'Tell him I'm going to get famous just like Byron did.' He pulled the chain on the mower and it growled back to life. 'I'll see you around, Vargas. Both of you.'

He swung back over the fence, and Feliciano jumped as his grandfather spoke.

'So we finally meet the elusive Gilbert,' he commented. Feliciano hadn't noticed he'd come outside, and was embarrassed they'd just stood around so long, but his excitement overrode that.

'He's really cool, isn't he? And he knows how to fix motors!' Feliciano grabbed the handles of the lawnmower in example and pushed it forward, making Lovino shout and jump out of the way. 'I want to ask him how to hotwire a car!'

'Now, I don't want any grandson of mine turning out to be some punk biker boy.' Roma chuckled. 'Lovino, don't let him get any ideas into his head. And you, Gilbert!' he called.

'Yeah?' Gilbert called back, halfway to the front door. Feliciano didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or thrilled. Lovino was groaning into his hands beside him.

'Don't go teaching my boys anything!' Roma yelled.

'Yes, sir.' Gilbert saluted and, grinning, went inside.

'Now that that's settled, you two can finish mowing the lawn. And don't run the mower into any rocks!'

Feliciano mostly pushed the lawnmower around while Lovino kicked sticks and rocks out of the way. After most of the grass was gone, the yard looked less like a jungle and more like someone had attempted drastic landscaping and given up halfway through, leaving only a few flowerbeds intact. When they got to the mulchy, torn-up part of the lawn, Feliciano saw his sword and raced ahead to pull it out.

'Look, Lovino!'

'Yes, it's a very nice stick.' Lovino was concentrating more on not letting the mower fall over from where it had been abandoned, and Feliciano heard him mutter a few more words under his breath as it tipped onto its side anyways.

'Do you think I could swordfight when I grow up? Would Nonno also tell me not to be a swordfighter like he jokes about punks?'

'Fence. You can fence, and you can do it any time you want.' Lovino looked up, and Feliciano saw a hint of the familiarity they'd had before the announcement they were moving halfway across the world to a tiny town in America. 'I don't think Nonno would like it if you sliced up his Roman-inspired furniture, but I certainly would appreciate not having to hear the lectures about it,' he said, and Feliciano was elated to see his hint of a smile.

'What if I become a punk biker boy?' Feliciano pushed.

Lovino glanced back at the house. 'What if you become an artist?'

'Is punk art?' Feliciano jumped up and clapped his hands. 'I can ask Antonio, he seems to know a lot about art! He got you to bookmark two pages in that _Life in Wartime_ book you're always carrying around, so maybe he can tell me what lifestyle punk is.'

'Probably not one Nonno would like, and I still don't know where he lives.'

'Gilbert probably does. Hurry up, I want to talk to Ludwig and then we can go find Antonio.'

Lovino seemed to work faster after that, and even though he continually snapped at Feliciano to stop talking so much while he was busy, his face was easy and open.

0o0o0o

Gilbert opened the door, and Feliciano was secretly glad that it wasn't his scary grandfather instead.

'Nice to see you, Vargases, you caught us at a good time,' he greeted, swinging the door nearly shut behind him.

'Lovino wants to know where Antonio lives,' Feliciano explained. Lovino discreetly kicked him in the back of the leg, and he yelped. 'I mean, where's Antonio?'

'He lives down the road, I was just about to go see him myself. I'll take you down to see him, Lovino.'

'Thanks,' Lovino muttered, still evidently annoyed that Feliciano had said he wanted to know where Antonio lived. Feliciano didn't know why, because it was true, wasn't it?

'And you, Feliciano. My brother will probably want to see you.' He turned and shouted something in German up the stairs. Feliciano only recognized the _bitte_ part of it from yesterday, and resolved to ask Ludwig about it.

Ludwig appeared at his brother's side, hair mussed. Gilbert clicked his tongue and smoothed the stray edges down.

'Did you just wake up?'

'No, I was-' He broke off abruptly when he met Feliciano's eyes and smiled. Feliciano felt an answering giddy smile take over him. That was a good sign. His grandfather had always said that if someone made you smile just by seeing them, they were very important to you.

'Hello,' Feliciano said.

'Hello,' Ludwig replied.

'Right, you two have fun. Feliciano, don't let my brother get into any trouble. Lovino, Antonio is this way.' Gilbert nudged his brother out of the doorway.

They ended up in the garden again, sitting in the tree. Feliciano swung his legs, even though it made him feel unstable on his perch, like he was going to fall off. He leaned back into the branches and let himself feel like falling and rising up at the same time into the sky exactly the same colour as Ludwig's eyes. After a moment, he saw Ludwig do the same.

'Do you ever watch the clouds?' Feliciano asked. 'Lie down and do nothing but that for hours?'

'No.' Ludwig shifted on his branch. 'I think I might fall asleep. Besides, I wouldn't really be doing anything.'

Feliciano giggled. Looking up at the dizzying wideness of the sky, everything seemed close and far away at once. 'You're not doing nothing, Ludwig, you're having fun! And if you fall asleep, that's okay, I usually fall asleep when I do it, too, and then Lovino has to come and get me, and he acts like he's angry for making him walk all the way to the shed during supper time, but he really doesn't mind.' Feliciano's smile slipped. 'I mean, that's what we used to do when we lived in Italy. But it's still the same sky here, the same moon and sun and stars. Isn't that amazing, Ludwig? That we can look at the same stars as a million other people and all think they're beautiful at the same time? Stars are a constant of humanity, which I feel like people forget too often. We can't forget those constant things because they make the world better.'

'It...it is rather amazing.' Ludwig sounded a bit breathless. He turned his head to look at Feliciano and went quiet, and so did Feliciano, until he thought he could feel his heartbeat in every breath. If anything, Feliciano thought, a little dizzy, Ludwig's eyes were bluer than the sky.

'You can come watch the clouds with me any time you want,' Feliciano offered, strangely hoping he'd accept. Ludwig nodded, and Feliciano smiled in relief.

They rolled onto their backs again, and Feliciano stretched out his arms, enjoying the rough bark under his hands. His cap was a good cushion under his head. With a start, he remembered what he originally meant to ask.

'Ludwig, what does _bitte_ mean?'

'It means 'please'.'

'In Italian, 'please' is _per favore_.'

' _Per favore_ ,' Ludwig repeated. 'Like a knight's favour?'

'Maybe.' Feliciano contemplated it. 'I mean, a knight's favour keeps you safe, right? And I guess saying please can also keep you safe, because you wouldn't _believe_ the stories Nonno told me when Lovino and I were younger about what happened to little boys who didn't say please. So maybe it's a little like a knight's favour in case you ever meet an angry old man? I've never heard of anyone getting seriously hurt by an old man, though.'

'Nobody...' Ludwig shifted as if he was going to say something but thought better of it. Feliciano was too worried to pry. He felt like he'd said something wrong, but he didn't know what it was.

'You can't really see the clouds from inside the tree,' Feliciano pointed out, trying clumsily at something other than the quiet pensiveness that had taken Ludwig over. 'Do you want to go climb something higher?'

'Gilbert said not to let me get into any trouble,' Ludwig said.

'Well, I'm the one getting you into trouble, since I came up with the idea.' Feliciano caught his answering smile, but it faded.

'What if we fall and get hurt? Or we damage something?' Ludwig propped himself up on his elbows, worry shining in his eyes.

'I won't let you fall,' Feliciano assured him. 'And falling doesn't even hurt, it's like flying!'

'Flying isn't like that.' Ludwig looked away. 'I-Feliciano, I…'

It hit him like a lightning bolt, lighting up pieces of the boy with the bluer-than-sky eyes he'd never stopped to consider beyond his stubborn pride and strength.

'Ludwig, are you scared of heights?' Feliciano asked, and Ludwig froze.

Feliciano's chest flooded with ice, and then molten metal, and then glass shards. He'd overstepped the lines of their fledgling friendship, he'd ruined this, Ludwig would close off and turn away and Feliciano would always be the one who spoke too quickly to him.

'Yes.' Ludwig took a long, shuddering breath, and Feliciano felt it in his lungs, too, scratchy with relief and old worries still catching in his throat. 'I-I am not scared of the height. I love being in planes. I am scared of falling.'

'That's okay.' Feliciano sat up, too, and grabbed his hand. Ludwig met his eyes in surprise, and Feliciano was shocked at himself for being so bold, but he did not regret a second. He squeezed his hand. 'I'm scared of things, too, like war and guns.'

'Those are rational fears,' Ludwig said. 'I don't like war, either.'

'War terrifies me past explanation. I'm also scared of slivers and breaking my fingers.' Feliciano laughed embarrassedly. 'Because I'd never be able to paint again, and I don't know what I'd do without art. Ludwig, it's okay to be scared of falling. If you come with me, I will not let you fall. I promise.'

Ludwig stared at him for a long second before he nodded slightly and squeezed Feliciano's hand back.

0o0o0o

Behind all the overgrown grass, there was the back fence, which was tall and old and wooden and splintery and begging to be climbed, even if he was still worried about slivers.

'I'll show you how to do it.' Feliciano took a running start and launched himself at the gap in the slats, scrambling to the top. It was a lot higher than the fence between their gardens. Feliciano slipped off the fence and landed in the feathery grass.

'Ready?'

'I need instructions!' Ludwig started suddenly, flushing red. 'Where to put your feet and-and how to move, and how not to fall.'

'You won't fall, I'll be behind you the entire time.' Feliciano reaches out and pressed their palms together. 'You don't need instructions. Humans were born to fly.'

Something forged hot and bright and unsteady in Ludwig's bluer-than-sky eyes, and he nodded. He grabbed the first gap in the wood perfectly, and threw back a smile. He was almost at the top when he suddenly froze.

Feliciano's stomach filled with ice, but he forced his voice into calm. He couldn't freeze up now, not like he always did before. There was nobody to help him, and he had to take care now.

'You're doing well,' Feliciano said, keeping his voice low and even, like Ludwig had been when he spoke about war. 'Put your left hand on that knot there, and then move your right hand to the same place and swing over the top.

'I'm going to fall,' Ludwig whispered shakily.

'You won't. I have you. Move your left hand.'

'I'm scared.' Ludwig sounded broken, almost, choked.

'I know.' Panic was rising in Feliciano's throat, a sour, silent, suppressed scream, but he could not leave this to somebody else. 'Ludwig, listen to me. Would I let you fall?'

'Feliciano-'

'Would I?'

Silence, so thick and heartbreaking that Feliciano couldn't breathe.

'No.'

'I won't let you fall. Now move your left hand.'

Ludwig did, in a jerky, quick, puppet-like movement, and swung himself onto the top of the fence. All the breath rushed back into Feliciano's body, and he couldn't help cheering and scrambling up after him.

'You did really well,' Feliciano told him, and Ludwig nodded but stared out into the garden.

'Please don't tell anyone I'm scared of falling.'

'I'll never tell anyone,' Feliciano promised, and Ludwig's eyes flicked up to meet his, silent and grateful.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Finding out the context and theme of any city in a work is difficult but enjoyable.**

 ** _:: Old towns on old maps_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Stories have a habit of developing their own ways.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano leaned back, the rough edge of the fence rubbing into his palms. He could see Ludwig looking at him for a long second before he leaned back as well.

'I...I don't know why the idea of falling terrifies me so much,' he admitted. 'I wonder if I'm just…'

'I think you've very brave,' Feliciano interrupted before he could say anything wrong. 'Everyone is scared of something, but you faced your fear.'

'I did it because of you.'

Feliciano turned in surprise, but Ludwig was still watching the clouds, looking as peaceful as Feliciano had ever seen him.

'You did?' he managed, and was about to ask if Ludwig had ended up doing something he'd regretted, which would be horrible and Feliciano would feel guilty, but Ludwig met his eyes first.

'Thank you,' he said honestly.

Feliciano just nodded, a little dumbstruck, and decided to go back to watching the clouds.

'That's what friends are for,' he said, swinging his legs. 'Helping each other.'

In the hot bright sun, Feliciano felt like he was flying, and that the sky was all that existed, so endless his mind spun. He could get a little bit drunk on sky, he thought, like when his grandpa had people over and later on in the evening would do roaring renditions of old songs and even Lovino started flushing red and grinning at jokes and everyone just seemed brighter and happier.

It was almost like when he was back in Venice. The difference was that now there was Ludwig next to him, his hair fluttering in the faint breeze. Feliciano's mind wandered in the drowsy heat and he tried again to figure out the words to ask if he could paint him, because the idea of Ludwig all pale and gold kept tugging at his fingers.

'You're staring at me again,' Ludwig said without looking away from the sky, and Feliciano jumped and stammered an apology and wondered how many other times he'd been caught.

'I've been thinking of painting you,' he blurted, and that didn't sound right at all, so he tried again. 'Can I paint you? It's probably best if you give me a picture, because otherwise you have to stay in the same position for hours and you'll definitely cramp up and then it's really no fun. If you even want to be painted.'

Ludwig looked surprised. 'Why would you want to paint me?'

Feliciano waved a hand at him, generally gesturing to the way he smiled and the pensive curve of his brow when he thought and how really blue his eyes were because he couldn't explain any of it. He settled for summarizing it all as, 'Because you're beautiful.'

Ludwig went red and his mouth worked into a funny shape, like he was trying to remember how English words were formed. 'You can't say stuff like that,' he finally said.

'Why not? In Italy I say it to everyone. _Sei bella!_ Or _bello_ , in your case.'

'This-this isn't Italy.'

'But I'm Italian!' Feliciano laughed and flung out his arms and nearly fell off. He balanced precariously, the fence digging into his back, toes hooked into the slats. He squinted up into the fiery strands of flyaway hair against the sun. 'And I want to paint you because _sei bello_ , Ludwig.'

Ludwig stared at him in that way Feliciano was very quickly becoming acquainted with-half bewilderment and half amusement-before he held out a hand. Feliciano took it and was easily pulled back up, so easily it left him a bit breathless. Ludwig was stronger than he looked.

'I don't suppose you know anyone with a Polaroid camera,' he said with that hidden smile.

'Me, actually,' Feliciano replied, still a little bit distracted by that strength.

0o0o0o

He may not have been able to see the sky, but it was much cooler in the house. Were all American summers this hot?

'Are there any house rules?' Ludwig asked, taking off his shoes at the door. Feliciano thought about telling him that there were no paint smocks allowed at the table, but that would be pointless. He also wasn't supposed to be wearing his cap inside, but it made him feel like a professional artist, and his grandpa wasn't here.

'None!' Feliciano remembered one then, though, which was just bad timing. 'Wait, one. I'm not allowed to become a punk biker boy.'

'Why?'

'Because if Gilbert teaches me how to hotwire a car, I'll end up as that.' Ludwig still looked bemused. 'It was probably just a joke, Nonno does that all the time. Come on, my bedroom's upstairs.'

'Did you paint all of this?' was the first thing Ludwig asked when he came in.

'Yes. Not all of it is very good, but I've got at least one painting from every year since I started.'

'They're all very good, Feliciano.'

'Art can always improve.' Feliciano rummaged in one of the boxes for his camera. 'There's a lot of stuff in here, I should really take it out. Look, there's this picture frame, I'm going to- _ouch!_ '

'What's wrong?' Ludwig was at his side in an instant.

'It cut me!' Feliciano cried, waving his finger in the air. He couldn't stand any of these small, digging pains.

'Stop moving around!' Ludwig motioned him down and examined it. 'You've got a sliver.'

'I hate them!'

'I know.' Ludwig gave him a half-amused look, which Feliciano understood but didn't appreciate at the moment because what if the sliver couldn't be taken out and it got infected and he died? That would be horrible and sounded very painful and he really didn't want _Feliciano Vargas, died by infected sliver_ on his gravestone. He didn't want to die, either.

'I'll get it out, hold on, Feliciano. Do you have any tweezers?'

'They're in one of the boxes downstairs.' Feliciano hated this, it made him want to squirm around and try to pick it out himself, but his grandfather had warned him countless times that it could make it worse. Ludwig was looking into the box, and carefully pulled out the splintery wooden picture frame. It had a picture of him in the streets of Venice in it, and Feliciano found himself trying to remember every detail of that moment again. Ludwig was looking at the photo as well, almost transfixed, but he shook his head and looked away.

'Hold _still_ -we can go over to my house, but…'

'But what?'

'Vati is home.' Ludwig said it like he was trying to forget something. 'It's nothing. Come on.'

'Don't forget my camera!' Feliciano reminded him. Ludwig took it and hung it around his neck.

0o0o0o

Feliciano first thought he might have made a mistake when he noticed how pristinely unmarked the walls were and that maybe he should have taken off his paint smock. The second time was when a large dog came barreling towards him and he screamed.

'Feliciano! He won't hurt you, don't worry.' Ludwig was rubbing the dog behind its floppy ears, and it was panting and happy, but Feliciano still didn't trust it entirely. Ludwig looked happy, too, though, and so he hesitantly reached out to pat it.

The third time he really thought he might have made a mistake was when Ludwig's grandfather strode down the stairs.

'What's wrong?' he asked, and then his eyes caught onto Feliciano, who froze. Ludwig's grandfather had a piercing gaze and on him, the blue of his eyes was more commanding than whatever fluttering feeling he felt with Ludwig.

'We need the tweezers,' Ludwig said.

Gilbert poked his head out of the room behind his grandfather, and he made fleeting eye contact with both of them before he disappeared again and reappeared with a pair of tweezers. He must have left Lovino and Antonio alone, because neither of them were around.

'What happened?' he asked, kneeling down beside him. Feliciano shut his eyes and braced himself, but nervousness always made him talk quicker, and then he started thinking about if what he was saying was appropriate or not, and then it wasn't and he got even more nervous.

'There was a picture frame in the box I was trying to get my camera out of and I thought I could take it out too but then it stabbed me and gave me a sliver and I hate slivers and it's not going to get infected, is it, Gilbert?'

'It's not going to get infected, Feli. Can I call you that?' Gilbert squinted and then there was a sharp pinprick of pain and it was all over.

'Yes!' Feliciano waved his hand around to test it, relieved. 'You can call me anything. Well, not anything because then there's no point to my name, but you can call me that, at least. Thank you!'

'Any time.' Gilbert glanced to behind him, where his grandfather had retreated to the room with the door left open. 'Hey, Ludwig, would you mind taking this to the recycling?' He pulled a few crumpled sheets of paper from his pocket and stuffed it into his hand.

'I-Gilbert, are you arguing with Vati again?'

'Not in front of our new neighbour, little brother.' Gilbert's smile had turned brittle. 'Just do what I tell you.'

Ludwig's face went stony, and he turned and left without further words. Feliciano watched him go, a hot twist of fear and confusion welling up in his stomach.

Gilbert took a long breath and pushed his hands across his knees.

'Sorry you had to see us like that, Feli. He's just getting rebellious in his teenage years.' Gilbert stood and ruffled his hair. His eyes were dull with pain. 'Tell him I'm sorry.'

When Feliciano got outside, Ludwig was unfolding the papers.

'Ludwig?'

'It's more sheet music,' Ludwig muttered, holding them up. They looked complicated, and Feliciano couldn't make much sense of the markings.

'Are you supposed to be looking through them?'

Ludwig's expression hardened again. 'It's his own fault if I do.'

Feliciano didn't know what to say. He didn't like seeing Ludwig like this, when he was frowning and pensive and there was some deep worry in him Feliciano couldn't figure out.

'Gilbert says he's sorry.'

'I know.' Ludwig took a deep breath, and Feliciano stepped forward before he could start to push his hair back. He didn't want to see Ludwig as that older, more stern version of himself, and maybe it was just him, but he didn't want him to turn into a version of his grandfather that Gilbert would argue with. Ludwig stilled, and then gave him a weary, grateful smile.

'What's the name of the music?' he asked, settling down against the garage door with him.

'Nocturne by Chopin.' Ludwig flipped through the sheets.

'I didn't know Gilbert played music.'

'He doesn't.' Ludwig stood and tore the sheets into pieces before scattering them in the recycling.

'What? Is it Antonio's music? I thought he was a writer, too, or at least that he read books because Lovino has been reading the same two bookmarked pages for-well, I guess it's only been a day-but I could see him as a musician.'

'Not him.' Ludwig's hand moved as if to fiddle with his hair, but didn't. 'It's...it's too hot here,' he said, and Feliciano understood what he really meant.

When they were sitting in the cool, shaded garden, they both seemed to breathe easier. Ludwig was tugging at the sleeves of his black jacket.

'You don't have to tell me,' Feliciano said.

'I don't,' Ludwig agreed. 'I'm going to, though.'

Feliciano reaches out and unhooked the camera from around Ludwig's neck, and Ludwig glanced up, startled. He didn't know why he wanted a photo right now, at this tipping point, but he pulled Ludwig to his feet and captured it all, the messy gold of his hair, the sky and the apple tree and his blue, blue eyes.

'You make a lot of in-the-moment decisions like this,' Ludwig told him, still standing. 'Climbing on fences and taking pictures and…'

'And calling you beautiful,' Feliciano interjected. 'And deciding as soon as I saw you that we would be friends.'

'That too.'

'Are the decisions a bad thing?'

'No. No, it's…' Ludwig sat down. 'It's a good thing. It's a very good thing, but you're making me do the same things.'

'I think you make the same decisions, Ludwig. I think we all make them. Mine are just…'

'Better.'

'Sometimes,' Feliciano acknowledged, thinking especially of friendship.

They sat together for a second more before Ludwig spoke again.

'Gilbert is in love with someone.'

'Is it Elizabeta?' Feliciano asked, before the real weight dawned on him. 'But that's so exciting! Why would they argue over that?

'No, Elizabeta doesn't play music. I also asked him, and he said something about her wearing too many violets for his taste.' They contemplated that for a minute. Feliciano made a point of asking Lovino if violets were mentioned in his _Life In Wartime_ book, because Gilbert knew about the war. 'The problem is that Gilbert won't tell anyone who he's in love with.'

'Why wouldn't he tell anyone? If I loved someone I'd tell everyone I knew. It's a silly reason to argue, too-love is a beautiful thing.'

'I know. They argue when I'm not home. Or when they think I'm asleep.'

'Do you know who it is?'

'No.' Ludwig sunk his fingers into the grass. 'I wish I did.'

'Because you'd tell your grandfather?'

Ludwig jerked in place. 'No. I don't tell secrets.'

'That's good.' Feliciano fell back and stared up at the clouds again. 'Can I tell you a secret?'

'If you want.' Ludwig laid down next to him, and Feliciano rolled onto his side to face him. Ludwig copied him.

'I think my brother wants to be friends with Antonio, but he's not sure how.'

'Why?'

'Lovino spends a lot of time arguing with Nonno, too, maybe that's why.' Feliciano rolled back to face the sky. 'I know he wants to be friends because every time I mention him, he looks all funny, kind of like he wants to tell me something but realized Nonno would tell him off for saying it. He looked that way when I asked about why Nonno said a certain song was the reason why our mother existed. I still don't get it. Do you, Ludwig?'

Ludwig was making the exact same face Lovino had, but he shook his head and mumbled something about it not being the time to explain.

'And he has two pages bookmarked in his _Life In Wartime_ book, and I think Antonio recommended them to him because he keeps flipping between them.' Feliciano was quiet. 'Wait, do you want to see your picture? Here.'

Ludwig took it and made a face.

'You caught me when I wasn't smiling.'

'It's called a candid. I think you look very good no matter what.'

But really, right then when Ludwig laughed in surprise, eyes bluer than anything Feliciano had ever seen, he was so beautiful Feliciano couldn't look away, and so he took another picture.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Of all the places for a story to develop, in Wikipedia searches was not where I expected.**

 ** _:: Old stone arches by sunset_**


	5. Chapter 5

**It's intriguing to learn about slang.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig didn't like the heat that settled in every summer. It made everything slow and heavy and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Now, of course, there was Feliciano Vargas next door, and he was torn between wanting to sleep or read and seeing Feliciano again to ask him something. Ludwig stared at his reading for a long moment, debating, before rolling off his bed and opening the window.

The early morning air was completely still, no breeze to chase the heat away. Inside it was air-conditioned, and Ludwig shut the window again and carefully wrote a note in block letters. It took him a while before he came up with something that didn't sound weird.

 _Feliciano, I want to ask you something_.

It was better than waiting for heatstroke to take him. He taped it to his window and went back to reading.

A few chapters later, he was absorbed in the diagrams, and it took him a minute to hear the tapping. He looked up. Another pencil hit his window, and Feliciano waved and held up a sign.

 _Hello Ludwig!_

Ludwig opened the window and leaned out.

'Hello,' he said, trying to figure out what to do next that wasn't to smile like Feliciano made him want to do. 'How is your painting going?'

'Really well!' Feliciano ducked out of sight and pulled out a painting. It looked startlingly realistic. 'It's supposed to be Romantic, because look at you, Ludwig, you're straight out of the classics!' Feliciano looked at him like he expected an answer.

Ludwig didn't have an answer. He hadn't understood most of it, but he certainly wouldn't classify himself as _Romantic_.

'It's very good,' he said instead. Feliciano put the painting back down.

'You wanted to ask me something?'

'We're going downtown to Houston today,' he said. 'If you want to come, I can show you around. Or Gilbert can.'

'That sounds really cool!' Feliciano leaned forward and nearly toppled out of the window. He barely caught his pageboy cap. 'I'll go ask my nonno, hold on.'

Ludwig heard a distinctive sound of crashing as he disappeared down the stairs. He reappeared a few minutes later, swinging around his door frame, beaming.

'He said yes! Well, actually, he just sort of mumbled and yawned and drank a lot of coffee, but he won't mind. Lovi can't come, since he's busy with Antonio. Maybe they've started a book club. I'd like to join a book club, but I don't know any really good books. What's the book you're holding? You have good taste.'

'It's not a book, it's a manual,' Ludwig said, awkwardly holding it out. 'About a car.'

'So you can teach me how to hotwire a car, right?' Feliciano laughed and swung himself out to sit in his windowsill.

'Be careful.'

'I won't fall, and even if I did, there's a roof right here. Do you think it'll hold me? I could sit here and talk to you.'

'Best not to try it.' He hesitated. 'The sitting on the roof. We can talk from our windows.'

'Right, right.' Feliciano swung his legs. 'I like talking to you. When are you going?'

'At eight. You have fifteen minutes.'

'You get up really early.' Feliciano yawned hugely. 'I wasn't going to get up this early, but I set myself an alarm because my hand would have finished curing. Look!' He held up a hand made out of grey clay. 'It's lucky I did, I want to go to downtown Houston with you.'

'It's been six days, and you've already set up an art studio in your room?' Ludwig asked, stuck once again between bafflement and intrigue.

'No, my art studio is in the basement. I just kept this in my room because the heater in the basement makes funny noises in the morning and they scare me.'

'Of course,' Ludwig said, beyond questioning him at this point. 'Do you need a while to get ready?'

'I just need to…' Feliciano reached over to put the hand back and promptly fell backwards into his room with another crash. He sat up and pulled his cap back over his eyes. 'The hand's okay! I'm ready to go now.'

0o0o0o

Gilbert was tasked with handling them, and as soon as his grandfather was out of sight, immediately headed down a side street and stopped in front of a dusty, dark place with cloudy windows.

'Don't follow me inside,' he warned them sternly. 'I'm serious. Vati will have my head if you get in, and I think your grandfather would have something to say, too, Feli.' He pointed at Feliciano sternly. 'Do not go into this store. I just need to pick something up.'

As soon as he'd disappeared inside, Feliciano glanced sideways at him and grinned in a way that told exactly what he intended to do next.

'Feliciano!' Ludwig whisper-shouted, horrified. Feliciano took off his hat and paint smock and dropped them in the curb before slipping inside the store. Ludwig had no choice but to put his jacket in the same pile and follow.

The store was dimly lit and only a few people stood in the aisles. Most of them had dyed hair, one of them had piercings. Ludwig couldn't help staring. Feliciano gaped openly at the dyed hair.

'Ludwig, I want to dye my hair,' he whispered.

'No!'

'Shh, Gilbert's right over there.'

Ludwig was _sure_ they were going to get caught, and then Gilbert would probably tell Vati, and he wouldn't be allowed to talk to Feliciano again. Gilbert was huddled in the very corner, searching rapidly through something. His hood was pulled up, and the only reason Ludwig knew it was him because of how he moved and his pale hands.

'We're going to get caught,' he told him.

'Only if you keep talking! I can almost see what he's looking at. They're...books, and magazines, but I can't see what's on the cover.'

Gilbert turned to grab something from his pocket and Ludwig pulled Feliciano back around the corner. They stayed flat against the wall for a long moment, hearts racing, before they heard Gilbert get up and turn their way.

' _Go!_ ' Ludwig hissed, and this time, Feliciano listened. They nearly collided into another pair as they ran out of the shop, and one of them swore.

They slammed against the wall outside, gasping for breath. Feliciano pulled his smock over his head and jammed on his cap. Ludwig slipped on his black jacket, and they stood in petrified, panting silence until Gilbert opened the door and strode out like nothing had happened. Ludwig and Feliciano were too terrified to say anything as they followed him.

'Next, we go to that music place,' he muttered, looking distracted. He kept fiddling with the inside of his jacket.

'Are you getting something for the person you love?' Feliciano asked.

Gilbert stopped dead and whirled on them. Ludwig reached out a hand to push Feliciano back, but Gilbert didn't look angry so much as scared, or as scared as he knew how to be.

'How do you-Ludwig, you _told_ him?' he snarled. Ludwig stood his ground and raised his chin defiantly. It was Gilbert's own fault for never telling him anything and arguing with Vati so much.

Behind him, Feliciano was shaking.

'Sorry, Ludwig told me but it's my fault because I told him a secret of my own, and maybe it wasn't in that order but it's not his fault, you shouldn't get angry at him, and please don't get angry at me, either, but if you're going to I'd rather you get angry at me than him!' he babbled, frantically clutching Ludwig's sleeve.

Gilbert pulled them to the side of the sidewalk and rested a gentle hand on Feliciano's shoulder.

'I'm not angry at you, Feli. I promise.' He cast a dark look at Ludwig. 'My little brother? No, but if he knows what's good for him, he won't tell any more secrets.'

They weren't secrets. Gilbert snuck out night and day, and his silent longing was practically vibrating off him.

'So you are getting something? And you are in love with someone!' Feliciano jumped up. 'That's so exciting! Why don't you want to tell anyone? Love shouldn't be hidden. What are you getting them?'

'You wouldn't understand. Maybe when you're older.' Ludwig knew Gilbert's words were for him. 'I'm getting more sheet music. And you aren't going to tell anyone what I bought today, right?'

'Including the magazines you put in your jacket?' Feliciano asked. At Ludwig's incredulous look he backpedaled. 'He paid for them. I...I saw through the window.'

'You're observant.' Gilbert stood up. 'No, don't tell anyone about those, either. Okay?'

'Okay,' Feliciano agreed. Gilbert's eyes fixed on Ludwig.

'I won't tell Vati,' he said. Gilbert's eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

The music store was dusty and full of sunlight. Gilbert's stiff posture relaxed when he entered. The bell over the door rang gently.

'Don't touch anything,' he told them, but his voice was easy, almost light. 'Come over here. You see these records? Gorgeous.' His fingers hovered over the racks. 'I see a lot of Andrews Sisters. I wish…' He shook his head, humming something quietly as he picked out sheet music. Ludwig stood and watched. Feliciano huddled nearby.

'Why wouldn't we understand?' Feliciano asked.

'I don't know,' Ludwig said. He hated it when his brother acted like he wouldn't be able to handle anything. 'I wish he'd tell me.'

'Lovino never tells me anything.' Feliciano slumped, staring out the window. 'He says that it's because I wouldn't understand or I don't need to know. Like when I asked him about violets. He just said it wasn't important.'

They waited until Gilbert paid for the sheet music, which he also tucked into a pocket inside his jacket Ludwig hadn't noticed before.

'We'll understand when we're older, though,' Feliciano reassured before turning to Gilbert. 'Can we go to an art shop? Do they have those here?'

'They have everything here,' Gilbert said, seemingly relieved that they weren't talking about who he loved anymore. He pulled them out of the music shop.

The art shop was a tiny, messy thing, cluttered and smelling like paint and baking clay. People tripped over the boxes scattered on the floor. Half-finished projects covered every spare inch of space.

Feliciano loved it.

He ran ahead, examining a painting of a cathedral.

'Ludwig, come look at this!' he called, and Ludwig did. He still didn't understand art, but he understood Feliciano, or at least some of him.

'Ah, a memory of home. The lovely towers of Notre Dame,' a voice behind them said, and they turned.

'Francis!' Gilbert shouted, throwing an arm around the man with long blond hair, who laughed. 'Is everyone out downtown today?'

'Just me, my friend. Saturday is a good day to, ah-basket shop, as I'm sure you know. God will forgive me tomorrow.'

'If God hasn't already condemned you to the deepest levels of hell, I'll do it personally,' Gilbert said.

'That would be a waste of my pretty face.' Francis ruffled his hair. 'What are you doing here? I thought you would have come alone.'

'Not allowed.' Gilbert shrugged. Ludwig remembered that argument, ending with Gilbert not being allowed to take the car by himself. 'Vati's getting something for church tomorrow and the kids wanted to come.'

Their eyes flicked together, and Francis abruptly changed the subject and knelt down beside them. Even Ludwig felt a little bit disarmed by his smile.

'And who are you?' Francis chuckled as he looked down at Feliciano. 'Let's see-wild curls, artist's cap, paint smock. Antonio talked about a certain somebody's younger brother, now don't tell me...Feliciano?'

'Yes!' Feliciano looked delighted. 'Antonio talked about me?'

'He talked more about Lovino, but yes. He didn't mention you were quite so adorable.'

'Hands off,' Gilbert growled playfully, elbowing Francis in the side. He backed off, hands raised.

'Fine, fine. But Feliciano-and Ludwig-should you ever have any questions, feel free to find me. Gilbert knows my address.' He winked and turned to Gilbert. 'Have you seen Antonio? He said he would be downtown today.'

Feliciano tugged him backwards.

'Francis has answers,' he whispered excitedly.

'Francis is a questionable source at best,' Ludwig told him, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to know.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Fixing dates to slang is difficult.**

 ** _:: The soaring, satisfying finale of the music in a movie_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Old Polaroid pictures often give unvarnished views of recent history.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano took a deep breath-he was really going to answer all his questions!-and reached out to tug Gilbert's sleeve.

'Gilbert, can we-'

'Vati is waiting,' he said. He glanced down, and Feliciano saw a flicker of apology in his eyes. 'Come on.'

Ludwig silently fell in beside him as they left the art shop. In the noisy, smoky bustle, Feliciano already missed the energy of the art store.

'Sorry,' Gilbert said quietly, leading them along. 'Listen-I promise you'll get to talk to him. Just...maybe another day, you really might not want-'

'What's his address, at least?' Ludwig interrupted.

'He lives downtown. A few blocks that way. We'll come back another day to see him.' Gilbert stopped on a corner and adjusted his jacket, patting his pockets, and wiped a smudge of paint off Feliciano's face. 'Remember, we never went to the magazine place.'

'Right,' Feliciano agreed. He still didn't understand why Gilbert didn't want to tell about beautiful things, or why it was so important his grandfather didn't know, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the identity of whoever Gilbert loved being someone his grandfather didn't like.

'We're here!' Gilbert called, rounding the corner, and his grandfather nodded up from a book and picked up a bag of clothes. Feliciano caught a look at the cover. _Der Große Krieg_.

'Ready to go?'

'Yes!' Feliciano exclaimed. He could think about Gilbert later, because the city was _huge_ , and a bit scary, but in a good way. 'Houston is amazing! Kind of loud, but everything in America seems loud. Well, none of you are really loud, but Ludwig said you're from Germany. I wonder what Germany's like.'

'It's nice,' Ludwig said, giving him the secret smile Feliciano was starting to realize he loved. His grandfather was frowning slightly, but it was more a bewildered look than an reprimanding one, like Feliciano's grandfather did when Feliciano talked too much about things. That was good because Ludwig's grandfather was a little scary, and strange because Ludwig had the same piercingly blue eyes and hair and he was never scary.

The car ride home, Feliciano talked about Houston, and Ludwig told him about places like museums and art galleries he'd visited, and places in Germany he'd been.

'There's a lot of art in some cities,' he said, talking about Germany. 'Berlin, for example.'

'I heard the Wall there is completely covered with graffiti on the west side by now,' Gilbert said, turning around from the front seat.

'What wall?' Feliciano asked.

'The Berlin Wall is a blockade surrounding the west half of Berlin, put into place to prevent people in the east from entering,' Ludwig's grandfather said. Feliciano was startled by his voice for a moment before it sunk in.

'Why would someone do that? Can they do that?' Feliciano frowned. 'Why is Berlin divided? Ludwig, you said something about a war, is that why?'

'It's not a full war right now,' Ludwig said. 'Nobody can stop anybody else, or a real war might start.'

'Russia and America are using the halves of Germany to fight because they can't fight each other directly,' Gilbert said, leaning back in his seat, lip curling. 'And Russia is running their half into the ground.'

'You know how Europe is divided into east and west?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano nodded. 'Berlin is divided in the same way. We...we lived there. Until we left.'

'On which side?' Feliciano asked.

The car went silent. Feliciano felt like he'd stepped over the line. In the silence, Gilbert cleared his throat.

'East,' he said.

0o0o0o

Feliciano's grandfather was waiting when they came back. Feliciano ran to him, but all his excited words failed when he remembered the angry, helpless curl of Gilbert's mouth when he talked about the proxy war. Feliciano had thought war was over. He'd been promised it was over, and that he wouldn't ever have to experience the screaming and bombs and diving planes he saw on TV sometimes, right before Lovino changed the channel.

He didn't blame Ludwig at all for leaving. He didn't blame his grandfather for uprooting them from Venice, either, if it meant he never had to see war.

'How was Houston?' his grandfather asked.

'Amazing! There's a lot of people, even though it's early Saturday. Ludwig gets up really early, did you know? I don't think I could do that. But it was worth it, there's an art store and Francis.'

'Did you say thank you?' his grandfather asked with a smile. Feliciano turned around and waved.

'Thank you so much!'

'You're welcome any time.' Gilbert pushed his hands into his pockets, and Feliciano could see the moment he remembered what he'd put in the inner pockets. 'Hey, Feli, if I can steal you for a few more minutes. I've been meaning to tell you about your art and all.'

'Go ahead,' Roma chuckled. 'Lovino has run off, too. Say, Feliciano, did you see him downtown? He said he might not be back for an hour or two, and I thought he might have gone with you.'

'Not with us, but Francis said Antonio was supposed to be downtown,' Feliciano remembered. 'I'll ask him if they were together when he comes back. He'll have fun, I bet he'll really like the restaurants there!'

'I was thinking he'd pick a girl up and take her out,' his grandfather chuckled, turning back to the house. 'There's no girls in his books at all, I've looked at the back. He needs to get out! Am I right, Feliciano?'

'Well...' Feliciano didn't know who to look to. Ludwig nodded, just barely. Feliciano looked back at his grandfather. 'Sure, if that's what he likes.'

'It is, don't worry. It'll be good for him. Run along, now.' His grandfather ruffled his hair and went back inside the house.

Gilbert appeared at his side, grin tight around the edges.

'Come on,' he said.

0o0o0o

'I don't think you're allowed inside Gilbert's room,' Ludwig said when they went inside. 'It has...posters.'

'It's fine,' his grandfather called from the base of the stairs, sorting through the pressed, stiff clothes. 'Won't hurt him.'

'What are the clothes for?' Feliciano asked.

'Church.' Ludwig looked away, and Feliciano didn't press the subject. Gilbert silently opened his door.

Feliciano didn't know what to think of the posters on the walls. They all had women on them, and they were stretching and contorting in ways that looked...weird. They didn't have a lot of clothes on. Feliciano didn't know if whoever Gilbert loved liked having all the posters on the walls.

Gilbert was rustling around underneath his bed, and pulled out a shoebox. He unzipped his jacket, and in quick, hurried movements, dropped the magazines and sheet music into the box and closed it. Feliciano got his first look at the magazines, and he saw skin stretching and bending like on the posters, but muscled and hard, and they made his stomach do funny turns.

Gilbert put away the box and turned to them.

'Vati is always on my case about buying sheet music for an instrument I don't play,' he said lowly. Feliciano had the feeling he'd been invited over for more than a simple introduction to writing. 'But that's not the point. You wanted to learn about writing?'

'Yes.' Feliciano held up a hand as a thought struck him. 'Wait! What does _Der Große Krieg_ mean? I saw Va-I saw your grandfather reading a book with that name.'

'You're pronouncing it wrong. It's a harder -ss sound, not -b. _Der Große Krieg_ means _The Great War_ ,' Ludwig said.

'World War One,' Gilbert said quietly. He glanced up and Feliciano's fear must have reflected on his face, because he nodded. 'No more distractions. I write letters, and I try to write stories.'

'To who?'

'That's a secret.' Gilbert laughed and opened a few drawers, pulling out ruled notecards covered in messy scribbles. 'Here, you can read this one.'

It's a few lines of dialogue, but the voice is unmistakably Gilbert's-wit and confidence and something like homesickness in the way the characters discussed faraway rains in different, peaceful worlds.

'It's good!' Feliciano exclaimed. Ludwig looked fairly impressed. Gilbert snorted and took the card back.

'Of course it is. Ludwig, you can't look at me like that. You don't do art.'

'I can teach you to paint,' Feliciano instantly offered. Ludwig opened his mouth to answer, but Gilbert cut him off.

'Don't bother. He's the good kid. He's going to become a doctor or something.' Gilbert reached over and ruffled Ludwig's hair down. 'I'm proud of you.'

They were interrupted by the screech of a car outside. Feliciano ran out into the hallway to see outside. A car was parked in the driveway, and sitting in the passenger seat was-

'Lovino!' Feliciano exclaimed, racing down the stairs. Gilbert unlocked the door, and Antonio beamed at all of them.

'Hello, Gilbert and Ludwig. And Feliciano!' Antonio picked him up, and Feliciano giggled. 'Nobody told me you would be here today!'

'We just got back from downtown Houston,' Feliciano explained.

'What a coincidence! So did we.' Antonio called back. 'Lovino! Guess who's here?'

'Gilbert,' Lovino's muffled voice called. 'And his brother. And their grandfather. Who else?'

'Feliciano's here! They also just came back from downtown.'

There was a crash, and Antonio ran around the corner. He came back carrying a large box. Lovino followed, not making eye contact with anybody.

'Have you got the-?'

'Come upstairs,' Gilbert instructed.

Antonio seemed to know where everything was in Gilbert's room. He glanced at the posters and made an expression like he was trying not to smile. Lovino crossed his arms and sat down next to Antonio on the bed.

'What are you unhappy about?' Feliciano asked him, and he scowled deeper.

'I'm not unhappy about anything.'

'Lovi, everything's fine,' Antonio said earnestly. Lovino made a face.

'Don't call me stupid names in front of everyone, bast-Antonio.'

'It's not a stupid name.' Antonio bumped their knees together and accepted the shoeboxes Gilbert had pulled out from under the bed. Lovino stared into the distance and didn't answer. His ears were red.

'What are you doing?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano gave him a look. He had assumed that Ludwig knew about whatever was happening, but he evidently didn't.

Ludwig gave him a look back that seemed to say that Gilbert never told him anything.

Antonio filled the box with shoeboxes and stood up.

'Anything else?'

'No. Just take it to-to downtown.' Gilbert seemed more brusque than before.

'What's inside all the shoeboxes? Why are you taking them downtown?' Feliciano asked. By the looks he got from Gilbert, he'd almost forgotten they were still there.

'Fitness magazines and sheet music for a concert hall,' he said.

'Why do you need fitness magazines there?'

Gilbert shrugged, busying himself with tidying the edges of the boxes.

Feliciano watched them carry the box to Antonio's car. Lovino leaned against the wall of the house and frowned into the heat.

'Were you downtown with us?'

'I was with Antonio, not you,' Lovino said.

'Are you friends with Antonio?' Feliciano asked . Lovino jumped and dropped something, which he scrambled to pick back up.

'No,' he said roughly. He was turning the thing over in his fingers.

'But why would he drive you around and do nice things like talk to you about books if you aren't friends? I think you two are-'

'He's a stupid Spaniard with a good car,' Lovino hissed, slapping his hand against the wall. Feliciano could imagine how much his palm would sting. 'That's all.'

'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely.'

Feliciano wasn't the only one who caught Lovino's eyes flick to Antonio. Ludwig nodded at him, and Feliciano started to plan.

 **0o0o0o**

 **The seventies are a happening place.**

 ** _:: Old songs you didn't know you remembered the lyrics of_**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'd like to go to different cities to see the writing.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano's grandfather had told him many times not to make stupid, rash decisions, which he thought about as he dug his fingers into the windowsill a bit harder. Lovino was definitely friends with Antonio, but Feliciano wanted to know how, and why he was denying it, and what was happening with the shoeboxes in the larger box.

'Be careful,' Ludwig whispered up to him.

'I am, just make sure nobody sees me,' Feliciano whispered back. 'Do you know where Antonio lives?'

'Down the road-'

'Shh! Gilbert's taking something out.' Feliciano craned his head, holding his breath. Gilbert was holding...a stick? No, a flute, he'd seen one in the music store. 'Ludwig, did you know Gilbert had a flute?'

'No.' Ludwig looked like he wanted to climb up as well, but thought better of it. 'I thought the sheet music he had was for piano.'

'It was.' Feliciano leaned closer, hoping he'd see more, but his foot slipped and Gilbert jerked up and Feliciano dropped down so fast he scraped his hands.

'Feliciano! Are you okay? Did he see you?' Ludwig asked, pulling him up and brushing him off. Feliciano shook his head.

'He didn't see me, I was careful.' Ludwig looked like he wanted to say _you're not_ , but Feliciano ignored that. 'I can't go up there again, though, he heard me.'

'You're going to get both of us caught.' Ludwig shook his head and fixed his pageboy cap. 'Feliciano, sometimes I worry about you.'

'I hear that a lot.' Feliciano clapped his stinging hands together. 'It's fine, though, Ludwig, I have you to protect me! And you usually don't care when I do stupid things, or if you do, you're usually right there with me, so I don't worry. Now, let's go find Antonio. I want to know what he's doing with the boxes, and why Gilbert doesn't just keep them in the first place.'

'Probably because Vati would get mad,' Ludwig said. Feliciano made a face.

'He doesn't seem to like a lot of things. I mean, I want to know who Gilbert loves, too, but I wouldn't argue with him over it. If people would just _tell_ me things about why it's such an issue, maybe I wouldn't have to sneak around to figure it out. You said Antonio lived this way?'

'Yes. Why are you going to his house? He said he went downtown.'

'Because I have a feeling about it,' Feliciano said. 'Oh, and because Lovino knew he was lying. I could see it on his face.'

0o0o0o

Antonio lived near the church, and Feliciano took a moment to look up at its stained-glass windows.

'The pastor there doesn't like Gilbert much,' Ludwig said as they snuck past. It was much cooler in the shade, and Feliciano took a moment to rest. The heat was like a hot, wet cloak. 'Apparently he swears too much.'

'He won't like Lovi either, then.' Feliciano dug his fingers into the grass. 'He's a good person, really. Lovino. He just doesn't like to show it.'

'Same with Vati,' Ludwig said.

'Maybe they'd get along,' Feliciano offered, and the concept was so ridiculous that they both ended up muffling laughter.

'What are you two doing?' a voice asked, and Feliciano rolled into his back and found bold blue eyes and saturated gold from his cowlick to his battered _America!_ sneakers.

'Spying on Ludwig's older brother's friend,' he said. 'What about you?'

'Getting a slushie, until I met you, because now I'm going to help you spy! We're going to be heroes! My name's Alfred, what's yours? Hello, Ludwig, what are you doing with him?'

'I'm Feliciano Vargas, we just moved in.'

'I'm making sure Feliciano Vargas doesn't get himself killed.'

'It looks like you need that. I like your cap, Feliciano. Who are we spying on?' Alfred flopped down on the grass, and Feliciano noticed the boy behind him, who had bushy eyebrows and looked really irritated. Feliciano sat closer to Ludwig.

'Antonio took some magazines from Gilbert and since they're not downtown, they're probably at his house, and I'm going to look inside of them,' he explained.

'If they're magazines, they're probably in the church.' Alfred grabbed the irritated boy's hand and pulled him down to sit. 'Didn't you tell me they had a box of porn magazines in the basement?'

'I haven't seen it.' He glanced at Ludwig, who was staring at the grass, ears red. 'Why are you and this boy in a paint smock going to look at the magazines?'

'We were actually just spying on Antonio,' Feliciano interjected, because it looked like Ludwig was going to have a heart attack. 'Ludwig, what's po-'

'Nothing,' Ludwig said. 'Absolutely nothing.'

'It's-' Alfred began.

'No,' his friend said.

Everyone stared at each other for a long moment.

'Let's go check the downstairs out!' Alfred suddenly cried, leaping up. 'I heard there's a back door around here that nobody remembers to lock.'

'Ludwig, who's the guy with the eyebrows?' Feliciano whispered.

'My name is Arthur Kirkland,' Arthur said, sounding even more irritated. Feliciano yelped.

'I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to hear that! Are you mad that we interrupted you getting a slushie? I can understand that, food is really important, but please don't be angry.'

Arthur waved him away and followed Alfred to a rusted metal door in the overgrown weeds.

'Arthur, dude, look at this.' Alfred pried the door open. 'This is amazing. This definitely looks like a place-'

'Haunted by ghosts?' Arthur asked, peering inside. Alfred shrieked.

'Don't _say_ stuff like that, Art!'

'Haven't you heard all the legends?' Arthur asked, strolling down the dark, musty hall. 'Groups of people who disappear down here, after hearing the same rumours about the magazines, never heard from again?'

'You guys go first,' Alfred said, shoving Feliciano and Ludwig in front of him. Feliciano clutched Ludwig's arm. He was almost regretting going in here, but it might make Lovino take him seriously, and he never felt scared when Ludwig was nearby, because the only thing he was scared of was heights, while Feliciano was scared of a lot of things.

'Funny thing is, it's always the person who lags behind who goes missing,' Arthur said, now examining something on the floor. 'Say, is this a bone?'

Alfred made a whimper that sounded a lot like help.

'No, just a rock.' Arthur straightened up and kept walking.

'There aren't any ghosts down here, right?' Feliciano asked. Ludwig shook his head stiffly, eyes darting from side to side.

'No. Definitely not.'

'There aren't. I just don't like it when Alfred calls me Art.' Arthur grinned at them both and turned the corner.

Feliciano wasn't sure what he had expected at the end of the cramped corridor. He could barely imagine Antonio, all sunlight and summer, being in this dark place, but to repeatedly come back to the water-damaged box sitting against the wall seemed even less likely. He still wasn't entirely sure there wasn't any ghosts, but having Ludwig nearby made him feel better.

'Let's look inside!' Alfred shouted, flipping open the cardboard flaps. 'Arthur, keep lookout, okay?'

'For ghosts?'

'For adults,' Alfred said. 'There's no such thing as ghosts. Right? Oh, wow-come here, there's magazines inside.'

Everyone huddled closer. Feliciano couldn't help thinking that his grandfather would ground him for life if he knew Feliciano was looking at magazines. His heart was pounding, and he felt lightheaded.

'I can't believe I'm doing this,' he whispered to Ludwig. Ludwig gave him a look, and his blue eyes shone in the darkness.

'You told me it's time to make reckless decisions, didn't you?'

'I didn't say I didn't want to.'

The first thing Feliciano saw of the magazines was the same thing he'd glimpsed in Gilbert's room-muscles and stretching skin, broad shoulders and sharp jawlines, and his heart did a funny jump and stutter. He looked away, trying to catch his breath, and met Ludwig's eyes. They were strikingly blue, and he was flushed red down to his collar, and Feliciano's stomach twisted in a way he didn't entirely hate.

It was easier to look back at the magazine, and so he did. The man on it wasn't wearing a shirt, and he had the same shoulders Ludwig did, but the wrong eyes, and Feliciano caught himself wondering if Ludwig looked like this under his jacket.

He reached forward and slowly flipped the cover. A few pages in, there was a man with the same blond hair Ludwig had, but slicked back. Feliciano followed the line of his back down to his waist. His face felt hot and his skin felt too tight and his thoughts were all weird and confusing and all he could really understand was Ludwig.

'It's just a muscle magazine,' Alfred said quietly. He picked it up, staring at the picture for a second before folding it and digging deeper into the pile. 'Here-my dad left something like this around once.' He pulled out a magazine with a girl on the front like Gilbert's posters. Feliciano didn't really see her. His head was still thinking of the way Ludwig- _the man's_ muscles looked.

'I should go,' he blurted. He didn't understand what was happening at all, and he wanted Lovino to explain it. 'Nonno will be worried.'

Without waiting for a response, he turned and ran back along the corridor. It was only when he was out in the cooling air of outside did he notice he was breathing hard. He sat down.

'Feliciano?' Ludwig asked, gently touching his shoulder. Feliciano whirled to look at him, and all his explanations or questions failed him. Ludwig looked concerned, and his figure cut a hard silhouette against the setting sun.

'It's nothing,' Feliciano said, jumping up. He managed a smile. 'That was-that was cool, I think, the pictures made me feel all funny, and you-I mean-it's nothing, really. Do you want to go home now?'

'Are you okay?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano nodded.

'I'm fine, even though I think I'm going to overheat or something, because I won't, and you won't have to carry me or anything.' He shut his mouth before he could say anything about how Ludwig probably could carry him and started walking, his head still a mess.

'Feliciano, you're all red.'

'I'm fine, really.' Feliciano waved him off. 'What did you think of the magazines?'

'They were interesting, I suppose.' Ludwig caught his arm. 'Feliciano, are you sure you're okay?'

'The magazines kind of made me feel weird, but not a bad weird, a really good kind of weird which I don't know if I'm supposed to like, and only the muscle magazine, but I don't even have muscles,' Feliciano babbled, desperately hoping Ludwig wouldn't understand what he was really wanting to say. 'You know, I still don't know where the sheet music went,' he added.

Ludwig let go of him, still looking worried.

'I'd guess Gilbert told Antonio to take it to whoever he loves. It was supposed to be a gift, but since he's not allowed to use the car by himself after he snuck out, he asked Antonio to deliver it.'

'That means whoever Gilbert loves lives downtown,' Feliciano realized. 'Because it's not Elizabeta, or else he could have just walked over, and who else would it be? Ludwig, do any other girls live around here?'

'There's Emma, she's friends with Elizabeta. Lili is too young, and her brother is very protective.' Ludwig frowned. 'And Natalya, but Gilbert hates her brother, so he wouldn't love her.'

'Maybe it's Emma, but whoever it is probably lives downtown. We'll ask Francis,' Feliciano decided, resolving to also ask Francis about the magazines.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I always hear about writing conferences a few cities over that I'd like to see.**

 ** _:: Old, thick ceramic, heavily glazed_**


	8. Chapter 8

**There's many good books on this time.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano had gone to bed and stayed awake for hours, the muscle magazine pages swimming before his eyes, all tangled up with Ludwig's blue eyes. He wondered what had happened with Alfred and Arthur. The look Ludwig had given him right before they began was stuck in his head.

He slid out of bed and scribbled down a note to tape to his window, hoping it would calm his thoughts.

 _Ludwig I'm going to ask Antonio if he can drive us downtown tomorrow_

Feliciano held his breath as he opened his window and threw a pencil, and it sounded too loud in the darkness. He waited, but the light didn't turn on.

He shut the window and went back to bed.

0o0o0o

'We're going to church,' was the first thing Roma said when Feliciano came downstairs.

'I was going to go downtown today!' Feliciano said. He'd checked, and Ludwig hadn't written back yet, but if he'd seen, Feliciano didn't want to cancel now. He'd been waiting for answers for days.

'You can go tomorrow.' Roma clucked his tongue as he looked Feliciano over. 'You're not wearing that. Go put on some better clothes.'

'Antonio is driving me,' Feliciano persisted. Across the table, Lovino looked up. There was a crease in his forehead and colour in his cheeks.

Feliciano's grandfather looked at Lovino sharply. 'Antonio can wait,' he said quietly. 'Take the cap off before we go, Feliciano. Go upstairs and change.'

Ludwig had written back when Feliciano looked outside.

 _I can't go, Vati says we're going to church_.

 _Me too_ , Feliciano wrote. He lingered, and eventually Ludwig pulled open his blinds and opened the window.

'I have to go to church, too,' Feliciano said, hopping up on the ledge. Ludwig nodded. He was dressed differently as well, and without his black jacket, he looked upright and stiffer.

'It's not very fun,' he said. 'The pastor…' Something conflicted flickered over his face. 'Vati says he's traditional. He says he's right.'

'Well, if he tells people not to swear, that's okay,' Feliciano said, sliding down onto the roof. 'See? It holds me.'

Ludwig tried to hide a smile behind an admonishment, but the odd conflict vanished from his eyes for a second. 'I'm always telling you to be careful and you never listen. That's going to break one day.' His smile disappeared. 'No, it's not swearing. He talks a lot about marriage.'

'I don't want to get married,' Feliciano said. 'Do you?'

Ludwig opened his mouth wordlessly, brow furrowing. 'No,' he finally said. 'Gilbert...maybe that's what he's arguing about, that he wants to get married to the person.'

'A wedding would be really exciting! Do you think he'll have cake? I can bake some. Oh, but he's kind of young for a wedding.' Feliciano laughed embarrassedly. 'He just has to wait a few years, then. Do you want to sit next to me during church? We can talk since we don't need to know about marriage.'

'Just make sure our grandfathers don't hear us,' Ludwig said. Feliciano looked up and smiled at him.

'Feliciano!' Lovino called from downstairs. 'We're going!'

'I have to go!' Feliciano scrambled back inside the window. 'I'll see you there, Ludwig!'

'See you.' Feliciano caught the hint of his smile again before he turned to leave as well.

0o0o0o

Lovino kept tugging at his collar as they went in.

'Stop that,' his grandfather whispered, slapping his hand. 'Feliciano, what are you looking for?'

'Ludwig,' he whispered back. 'He's over there, can we sit beside them?'

'As long as you're quiet.' His grandfather ushered them along, and Aldrich fixed them all with his piercing gaze as they sat. Feliciano tried not to meet his eyes, and found Ludwig instead.

' _Hey_ ,' he mouthed, waving, unable to help smiling. Ludwig gave him a real smile and started to mouth _hello_ back before the preacher stepped up and he jerked back and stared forward. Beside him, Gilbert was idly examining his nails, rustling the pew, and his grandfather was sitting stiffly beside him. Lovino suddenly slouched and Nonno frowned.

'Sit up,' he urged. Lovino didn't. His face was flushed deep red.

Feliciano looked towards the front as well, and saw Antonio off to the side of the pastor, head bent towards someone like he was still talking to them.

'Lovino,' he whispered, nodding towards the front. 'Look, it's Antonio-'

'I know,' he hissed through his teeth, and Feliciano recoiled in fear from the bitter tone of his voice. Lovino sunk further down in the pew. 'I know, just shut up.'

'Brothers and sisters,' the pastor began. 'I call you here today in worship to address a problem. Simply put, people are believing that to be homosexual is okay. They believe that they can still inherit God's kingdom while engaging in physical intimacy with the same sex.'

Feliciano's head felt fuzzy.

'It is clearly stated that a man shall not lie with another man, and yet some in this church have turned away.' His eyes swept the crowd, and Feliciano found himself shrinking in his seat, hoping desperately the man wouldn't see him-

His mind kept going back to that muscle magazine. He wondered if the pastor knew the books were hidden in the basement, and he felt like giggling, ridiculously. His heart was pounding and his stomach felt twisted, but not in the good way it had been when Ludwig looked at him. This felt sick.

'I have said it before.' His voice was so calm that Feliciano could almost believe him. 'We are man and woman, and to assume it can be another way is a distortion. It is a corruption. It is a dysfunction of the way God made it.' He swept a hand towards the congregation, and Feliciano flinched. 'We can understand, brothers and sisters, why it happens. Man sins. But we must turn away-we must turn others away-because God made us make and female. A marriage is a man and a woman.'

Lovino was digging his nails into his palms so hard his knuckles were going white.

'Homosexuality is wrong. Acting on homosexuality is wrong. Healing and not acting on the sinful urges is right, and God will accept you into heaven.'

Feliciano could hear his pulse in his ears. His mouth tasted sour and bitter. He fumbled for something, anything to ground himself, and found Ludwig staring at the ground.

'Ludwig,' he whispered, hoping the continuing sermon would block his words. 'Ludwig, I…'

Ludwig didn't look at him. He just shook his head minutely, his fingers digging into his pressed pants.

'Not now,' he mouthed.

Beside him, loud as a gunshot to Feliciano's ears, Gilbert yawned and tapped his fingers against the back of the pew in front of them. Feliciano looked up in shock. Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him, coppery red eyes gleaming with a feral intensity, and grinned.

'We've heard all this before,' he said into the sudden, echoing silence.

'Do you deny it?' the pastor asked. Gilbert cocked his head and didn't answer. His smile grew.

'To accept homosexuality denies you entry to the kingdom of heaven,' the preacher began.

'I didn't say I accepted it,' Gilbert said. 'I said I wanted to move on. What about the war? What does God say about the way Europe was divided?'

'Gilbert,' Ludwig warned, sitting up. He finally met Feliciano's eyes, and he saw the same terror there.

'We're going,' Gilbert's grandfather said, silencing the mutters. He gripped Gilbert's arm, hard enough that his grin wavered, and pulled him and Ludwig to his feet. Ludwig made desperate eye contact with Feliciano as he was led away.

The room was silent, full of stopped words and the dust floating in front of the stained glass windows. The preacher began again. Feliciano didn't hear a word. His heart was beating too loud to hear.

Feliciano barely noticed when the service ended. He numbly rose to his feet and wove between the people, searching for a hint of blue eyes, for Ludwig, who wasn't here.

He saw Antonio instead, and gratefully started toward him. Lovino grabbed his arm.

'Don't go talk to him,' he said through gritted teeth.

'But you're friends,' Feliciano said. 'And he's Gilbert's friend, too, maybe he can explain what happened.'

'Nothing happened.' Lovino dug his fingers deeper, and Feliciano yelped. He let go with a guilty expression, and Feliciano took the opportunity to run over to Antonio.

'Hello!' he said, and Antonio laughed in surprise and picked him up.

'Hello, Feliciano! Where's your cap?'

'Nonno made me leave it at home.' Feliciano giggled as Antonio set him down. 'I didn't know you were a preacher.'

'I'm not, just his assistant.'

At that moment, Lovino grabbed Feliciano's arm again, hard enough to hurt.

'I told you not to go running off,' he growled.

'No, you said not to-' Feliciano stopped at his look. Antonio laughed again, warm and open, and Feliciano had no doubts that Antonio had befriended his brother, because Lovino flushed red.

'Lovino! I didn't know you went to church!'

'I don't. Nonno does,' he muttered. 'Feliciano, we should go.'

'You can stay a while,' Antonio invited. Feliciano nodded.

'Can we? I want to talk about those pages you bookmarked with him. Oh! Antonio, can you drive me and Ludwig downtown? I want to talk to Francis. Do you know Francis? He seemed like he knew you.'

'I know Francis, so I certainly can.' Antonio ruffled his hair. 'I can't resist your little brother,' he confessed to Lovino, and he looked away.

'Nobody can.' He studied Feliciano for a second. 'Feliciano, go ask Nonno if you can go downtown.'

'I already did-'

'Go,' he said. He was staring at Antonio now. Feliciano left.

Feliciano's grandfather was talking jovially to a woman with flowing clothing, holding the hand of a boy around Feliciano's age with long, messy mahogany hair. He blinked sleepily as Feliciano ran up.

'Antonio says he can drive us, so do you think I can go?'

'Slow down.' His grandfather chuckled and bent down. 'Where is Antonio driving you and Lovino?'

'Not Lovino, Ludwig. Downtown. I want to talk to Francis.' Feliciano waited eagerly, and finally his grandfather sighed and shook his head, smiling.

'You can go, as long as you're back by one. Unless you're going to check on some girl you found last time, then take as long as you need!' He laughed and turned back to the woman. Feliciano nodded and managed a smile through the surge of the strange sick feeling and went to go find Antonio.

Feliciano found Antonio tucked behind the wings of the stage and slowed. He and Lovino seemed to be arguing. He paused behind the pulpit and listened.

'You don't have to avoid me, Lovino,' Antonio said. His voice was different, insistent and gentle, and he was leaning close to Lovino.

'No,' Lovino said, and lifted a hand like he wanted to push Antonio away. He sounded choked. His hand gripped Antonio's shoulder and twisted in the stray curls of his hair. 'Antonio, you don't understand.'

'I do. I promise. Lovino, what they say doesn't matter.'

'You tell me that after you stand up on that stage and support what that man preaches,' Lovino spat. Feliciano craned his head, but someone was blocking his view. 'You're a damn hypocrite. You have to decide between me or that scripture, Antonio.'

'I decided on you from the moment I saw you,' Antonio said, voice low and husky, and Feliciano saw a flash of their chests close together and leaned further, heart in his dry mouth-

He fell forward with a thud that seemed even louder than Gilbert's words. Lovino jerked away and whirled to face him, flushed angry red. Behind him, Antonio stepped away.

'Feliciano!' he said. 'You-you shouldn't-'

'Nonno says I can go,' Feliciano said. He had a feeling he shouldn't mention what he'd seen.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I don't like all of the research that has to be done.**

 **: _: Art galleries with warped wooden slat floors_**


	9. Chapter 9

**I try to make things period-accurate.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig hated this. The long car ride home, the silence broken only by Gilbert trying to be loud-tapping his fingers on the door and humming something that sounded like _Nocturne_. He'd been acting out more and more at church, and Vati started to drag them home and then-

Ludwig turned to stare out the window and tried not to think of what came next. The shouting arguments about what and who was right and wrong, with Gilbert rebelling against every word just because he _could_ , but Ludwig felt that Gilbert was always trying to carry on their last huge argument. Vati never seemed to realize that Gilbert was always arguing because of that. It was never the curfew or the car or the sneaking out, it was the argument that had led to them having to leave Berlin.

'Sorry, little brother.'

Ludwig jerked away from the window and his thoughts to look at him. Gilbert ruffled his hair-he'd started pushing it back again-and smiled. His eyes were shadowed.

'For what?'

'Pulling you out of church before you could talk to Feliciano.' Ludwig's heart momentarily jumped at Feliciano's name, but the feeling was crushed by the fear when Gilbert turned back around and tucked his feet under him, leaning his knees on the glove box. Like a bird. Exactly like Vati had told him not to.

This time, his grandfather said nothing, and Ludwig knew something bad was coming at home. He leaned his head against the window and wished for something more than the stifling, humid heat, or Feliciano.

When they got home, Ludwig lingered in digging the music sheets out of the recycling, unwilling to see the familiar scene inside. When he finally slipped inside, he saw them standing there. Gilbert, defiantly leaning against the wall, arms crossed over one of the band shirts Vati hated, secret jacket pockets full of music and magazines. He'd refused to change into better clothes for church. Vati standing quietly, every move cold, telling him wordlessly to make the first move. Ludwig stayed frozen in the doorway, desperately wishing for Feliciano to somehow appear and light up the whole room with his smile and take him somewhere far away from these horrible standoffs, but he was still at church.

'I wasn't even obscene this time,' Gilbert said.

'You were disrespectful.'

'I hear the same damn lecture like _clockwork_ every week since we got here, and _I'm_ disrespectful? That man needs to pick on someone else, someone less-'

'Less what?' Vati asked, voice as quiet and cold as it had been that fateful argument. Ludwig's world swayed, and he dug his nails into his palms. He was on the ground this time, not in the creaky attic rafters, listening to his world fall apart-

'Less already screwed up,' Gilbert said softly. 'By the entire world.'

'They are messed up. It's not right.' Vati's voice was rehearsed. 'It will _never_ work out, Gilbert. Believe me. The world will not change because some pacifists hate themselves-'

'You think the world never changes?' Gilbert burst out, hands shaking, lunging forward at his grandfather. They stayed locked together, red on blue, and Ludwig shrank back against the door. 'You think the world never changes? I don't believe a _word_ of that, because you said that right before the _Wall came up and you fucked up my entire life-_ '

'I saved this family by moving us to the East,' Vati snarled, and this was the first time Ludwig had seen his grandfather so enraged. He'd heard it through the walls of their East house in that final argument, but this was the first time he'd seen the anger in those blue eyes, and he was _terrified_ , heart-stoppingly terrified matched only by the fact that he couldn't recognize his brother in the rage.

'Saved us from what? Not working three jobs? Not nearly starving? Did you save my _mother?_ Tell me, Aldrich, did you save _Ludwig?_ '

Gilbert turned and pointed at him and Ludwig's mind was blind and blank with terror as he huddled further back against the door. Gilbert stared at him, red eyes crazed with furious grief, before the haze cleared and his horror was written plainly.

'Ludwig…' He broke ranks and knelt down, gathering Ludwig into his arms, and Ludwig held onto him tightly even if he was getting too old to be held, because Gilbert didn't hug him. 'Oh, baby brother, what are you doing downstairs? I thought I said…'

'I came in late,' Ludwig said. His voice was too quiet. He was _expected_ to go upstairs when they started shouting, like it was common enough for him to know-but it was, wasn't it?

He couldn't tell Feliciano. Ludwig couldn't tell him why he loved staying out late with him, and that half of it was because his heart did acrobatics when Feliciano looked at him and the other half was because his brother didn't argue with his grandfather and he wasn't running from a war. He was _normal_ , but also the strangest and most wonderful person Ludwig had ever met, and he never wanted to ruin that and show him this.

His grandfather knelt down and touched his shoulder. Gilbert didn't move to let him closer, but didn't push him away. Ludwig looked up into his grandfather's blue eyes and found a sort of shame there.

'Did I scare you?' he asked. Ludwig shook his head. He wasn't scared of him or Gilbert alone, he was scared that together, they'd break apart and leave him even more alone.

They stayed close for a few silent seconds before his grandfather stood back up, and Gilbert slowly let him go, and Ludwig wished they hadn't left.

'I didn't know you were downstairs,' Gilbert said. 'It didn't-it didn't register until the end, I didn't realize what was happening. I'm sorry.'

'I'm okay,' Ludwig said, because he had to be. Gilbert's face was slack and empty and Ludwig just wanted to go downtown to get away, but he needed to stay because if he was still here they'd both be too guilty to start shouting again, and if he didn't, they would argue, and Ludwig would come back to Gilbert having stormed out, and even though he hated the arguing, the silence would be a thousand times worse.

'Go upstairs,' Gilbert said gently.

'I want you to come, too,' Ludwig insisted. Gilbert's eyes flicked back to where their grandfather was standing silently and he nodded.

They sat on Gilbert's bed. Looking at the posters now made Ludwig feel dizzy. He really didn't want to press for answers now, but if Gilbert was guilty, he would be lenient, and he could finally understand something and fix all this.

He'd promised Feliciano he wouldn't tell his grandfather who Gilbert loved if he knew, but right now, he wasn't so sure, and that made him feel sick to his stomach.

'What keeps happening with Antonio and the magazines?' he asked. 'Is that why Vati's angry?' he added, even though he knew it wasn't.

'I go downtown and buy the things, and Antonio takes it to the concert hall. It's a favour.' He shrugged. 'Vati just doesn't like it cluttering my room. He says there's no use in muscle magazines if I don't go to the gym, and I don't play an instrument.'

'Why would you do a favour like that?' Ludwig pressed. He knew Gilbert was mostly lying because Feliciano had seen his flute, but the person must live downtown, and they played piano, because the magazines had ended up in the church. 'Is it because the person you're in love with is a musician at the concert hall?'

Gilbert went completely still. Ludwig froze, sure he had made a mistake.

'How do you know that?' he asked jerkily. Ludwig took a deep breath and tried to hold his ground.

'Because the music sheets were for piano, and-' He fumbled, hoping desperately Gilbert wouldn't instantly know they'd been spying on him. '-and there's no piano in the house.'

In the seconds Gilbert studied him, Ludwig could barely recognize his brother but in a different way than when he argued. There was something wild and wary in his eyes like he'd lived his whole life on the edge, and maybe he had. Gilbert didn't talk about Berlin because Berlin meant the _Wall_ , and they didn't talk about the Wall like they didn't talk about the war-everyone knew it but they never said so.

'Yes,' Gilbert said finally, sitting back. Ludwig saw him nudge a long, thin box further underneath his bed. 'It's-it's a musician from the concert hall. But you won't tell Vati that.'

'You keep a lot of secrets,' Ludwig said. He didn't mean to, but all his frustration had been seething, twisted up with fear and the horrible confusion of everything Gilbert had shouted, just now settling into his thoughts.

'Don't you dare tell him,' Gilbert hissed, grabbing his shoulders. Ludwig stared at him, fear scrambling his thoughts again- _moved to the East, running from the Wall and the wars you never talk about, okay, little brother? They can hear you_.

Gilbert let go.

'I'm sorry, that was too much,' he said. 'Ludwig, you're shaking.'

'Why did we have to move to the East?'

Gilbert's face closed off. 'Because Vati is scared of the Red Army. He didn't want to be in the West when he thought it would be taken over.'

'So he was trying to protect us?'

'Cowardice isn't protection, Ludwig.' Gilbert ruffled his hair again. 'That's how I see it.'

'What about your mother?'

'Our mother.' Gilbert shook his head. 'You don't need to know. Just don't tell Vati about my musician.'

Ludwig nodded, and Gilbert relaxed.

The doorbell rang, and Ludwig was the first down the stairs.

'Hello, Ludwig.' Feliciano beamed up at him, face ruddy from running. Antonio waved from the car idling on the curb. 'Do you want to go downtown?'

'Yes.' Ludwig pulled back when he remembered, looking for Gilbert.

'Go ahead, little brother.' Gilbert nudged him with his knee, and the look of easy happiness in his eyes filled Ludwig with a guilt he didn't entirely understand. Gilbert's eyes slid towards where their grandfather was reading his war book in the living room, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, his mouth twitching into a _don't worry_ smile.

Even though he remembered that smile from Berlin when the Red Army officers had walked too close, Ludwig nodded again and followed Feliciano to the car. Lovino eyed them from the front seat, toying with the pages of a new book called _Quatrefoil_.

When they collapsed into the sun-heated seats of Antonio's car, Feliciano waited until they'd started moving and the wind and loud Spanish music blocked their words before leaning close, eyes crinkled in worry around the corners.

'Ludwig, what's wrong?'

'Gilbert and Vati argued again,' Ludwig said, but his resolve for all his secrets crumbled when he looked at Feliciano. 'Gilbert blames Vati for moving us to the East, because when the Wall went up we had to leave.'

'You lived in the West half?' Feliciano asked.

'I was very young.' Ludwig ignored the warning in his mind that he was telling too much and kept talking because he _wanted_ to tell and be understood like he never had before. 'Gilbert remembers more than I do what it was like.'

'I'm sorry,' Feliciano said, so genuinely and honestly that Ludwig's chest twisted into knots and he had to look away.

'It's not your fault, Feliciano. I don't know why you apologize for things like that.'

'Because you're unhappy, and I hate when you're unhappy.' Feliciano reached out and took his hand, and Ludwig's knotted chest exploded into flutters and he felt like he could take a real breath for the first time since Gilbert spoke out if every ounce of oxygen hadn't been knocked from his lungs. 'I...I'm not very good at knowing what you think, Ludwig, and so maybe you're thinking something completely different than I think you are right now, but if you are then I think I can make you a bit happier.'

'What am I thinking?' Ludwig asked, heart in his throat, chest in good knots. He didn't even know what he was thinking except _Feliciano_.

Feliciano laughed, leaning closer, his golden eyes catching the American sunlight. 'You want something beautiful.'

It was true enough, Ludwig thought, because he wanted something involving Feliciano, and he was beautiful.

'Almost there,' Antonio called over the music and rushing wind, and Feliciano squeezed his hand a final time and sat back.

'Francis is probably in the art store today,' Antonio said, ushering them out of the backseat. Lovino followed, folding the book into his back pocket and speaking quietly with Antonio, who seemed delighted. 'Do you two mind if I show Lovi where the best food is here after I drop you off with Francis?' he asked, turning around. Feliciano looked equally happy, and said he didn't mind.

'Are you excited?' he asked. Ludwig knew he shouldn't be, that this seemed wrong in some way he couldn't explain but reminded him of sitting in church and listening to the preacher every week. However, it also filled him with a kind of thrill of disobedience, of Feliciano, and on this high he could almost understand Gilbert's rebellion. He wasn't supposed to ask questions, but Feliciano led him to make bold decisions and it felt good.

'I think so.'

'Good.' Feliciano smiled and it was worth it.

Francis was reading a book as well called _Bottoms Up_. It had a strange bar scene on the front, and he tucked it under a canvas when they came in.

'Where's Gilbert?' he asked. Antonio's cheerful smile flickered.

'Busy.'

Francis nodded, brow furrowing. Feliciano stepped forward.

'We have some questions.'

'Of course.' Francis glanced at Antonio and Lovino, hovering by the doorway. 'When will you two be back?'

'Soon enough. Just give Roses a call when they've exhausted you,' Antonio said breezily. 'Don't expect us too soon.'

When the door shut, the art store was quiet and waiting, almost, for someone like Feliciano to begin work again. Francis watched Antonio walk away before he pointed them towards chairs.

'What's making Gilbert so busy?' he asked lightly, but Ludwig could see the way his fingers clenched on his paintbrushes as he swept them into a box.

'His grandfather,' Ludwig said.

'Of course.' Francis slid the box back into a shelf and pulled a shade, shielding them from view through the window. His posture was unusually somber as he sat down. 'You had questions?'

Feliciano looked desperately at him, and Ludwig nodded, urging him to ask. He knew what they both wanted to know.

'The preacher talked about people who are homosexual,' Feliciano said, and Francis took a deep breath.

'It means people who love the same sex.'

'But the way he talked about it-I love my friends and family, and some of them are boys, too.'

'Not like that.' Francis met Ludwig's eyes as he talked, and his words sunk deep into Ludwig's thoughts, down to the fragile knowledge of the fluttering feeling he got when Feliciano looked at him. 'You can love your friends and family, but you don't love them romantically. You don't want to kiss them, do you?'

'I kiss people to say hello,' Feliciano said. Francis laughed.

'No, not like that. For example, when you look at a girl, and think about how she's the most beautiful thing in the world, more than anyone else, and you want to kiss her and touch her. Sometimes boys feel like that for other boys, and girls feel that for other girls.'

'Oh.' Feliciano wouldn't look at him, but Ludwig couldn't look away.

'Anything else?' Francis asked.

Feliciano was quiet, staring at his hands for a long time. Ludwig couldn't think straight past the way Feliciano looked in this shadowed, dusty space of creation with the dust floating on sunlight through his hair and getting stuck in his long eyelashes. Slowly, slowly, his golden eyes raised off the floor and met Ludwig's, and he felt like flying and falling and less and more scared than he'd ever been before, his heart in double rhythm in every inch of his body. He was aware of being close to him like electricity and of breathing.

'I think I get it,' Feliciano said softly. He turned back to Francis. 'Is it-it's not wrong, is it? The preacher said it was.'

'Some people don't accept it,' Francis said. 'I don't think it's wrong. It's up to everyone to understand by themselves.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **Tracing history for things like expressions is actually very enjoyable.**

 ** _:: Old sailing ships with painted sails_**


	10. Chapter 10

**The way every part of the setting develops with time is important.**

 **0o0o0o**

Francis left them alone in the dusty corners of the shop as he went into the back for 'stocking'. Ludwig was just grateful he had time to recollect his thoughts and talk to Feliciano, but he was too nervous and distracted to summon the courage to speak first.

Every time he glanced up from whatever art materials he was pretending to understand, Feliciano had hastily looked away, but one time, Ludwig caught his wide golden eyes in the act of turning back to a paint set and Feliciano froze. The was a strange look on his face, almost exactly like that time in the garden; entranced and a bit pained in awe. Ludwig didn't know how he felt about anyone looking at him like that, especially Feliciano-hot and fluttering, maybe, but guilty as well. It felt like a lie because Feliciano didn't know how much Gilbert and Vati argued and how much Ludwig couldn't stop it.

'You're staring again,' Ludwig told him. Feliciano's mouth opened soundlessly.

'I finished the painting of you,' he said in a rush. 'It's not here, it's at home, and I've been thinking of it for a while but there wasn't a good time to tell you, and this wasn't the best time either since I can't show you but you should still _know_.'

'Is it good?' Ludwig asked, unsure what else to say. Feliciano tilted his head, eyes sparkling in the semi-darkness behind the closed blind.

'I don't think you could look bad if you tried.' He stepped closer and swallowed, nervously pushing back the brim of his cap. ' _Sei bello_ , Ludwig.'

Ludwig fumbled all his words halfway through thanking him and abruptly picked up a book on drawing instead. He didn't have Feliciano's courage to say those things, to tell him that _he_ was the beautiful one, the artist who saw the best in everything.

Feliciano didn't back away this time, and Ludwig's heart kept pounding, making his head light.

'Ludwig, tell me how to say you're beautiful in German,' he said.

'Du... _du bist wunderschön_ , Feliciano,' he rasped. He didn't know what he was even feeling-disorganized and wild and risky and good. Feliciano mouthed the words back, eyes steady on his.

'Thank you,' he said. He tugged Ludwig over to the seats and sat down. Ludwig noticed faintly that his hands were shaking, and tightened them on the book.

'Francis knew a lot about...that,' Ludwig offered. The mention of it made him shudder, but for once it wasn't in fear. He didn't fear the old things he had ever since they left Berlin around Feliciano.

'I don't think the preacher is right.' Feliciano looked at him for confirmation, but Ludwig was too conflicted to even nod. 'There's-there's no reason for him to hate people like-like that,' he continued, voice stronger. 'If it's just marriage, then that doesn't matter, right? I don't think I'm going to get married.' He giggled, face red with embarrassment, and Ludwig tried for a smile, but his stomach felt heavy.

'Doesn't your grandfather keep telling you to find a-' He almost stumbled on the word for some reason, '-a girl?'

Feliciano's smile faded. 'He tells that to Lovi, too. I don't think he means it. I hope he doesn't mean it. I think he knows more about all of this than me, though, Lovino.' He shuffled his feet, staring up at the ceiling. 'Ludwig, does your grandfather ever tell you to get a girlfriend?'

'No.' Ludwig didn't say it was because he spent too much time shouting at Gilbert. Feliciano didn't tell him he was lucky, and Ludwig was immeasurably grateful. 'It's-its just how it is. That's what Vati says, and that the world won't change.' He almost choked on the words.

'The world always changes, Ludwig.' Feliciano looked shocked. 'That's what artists do. We change the world.'

'I'm not an artist,' Ludwig pointed out.

'Not yet. Or you could be my model, you know, for my art. Lots of old artists had special models.'

'You intend to change the world into one where…' Ludwig almost couldn't process it. Feliciano giggled again, face red.

'Maybe. If you wanted it, I could.'

Ludwig pulled away. He didn't mean to, but his head hurt from balancing the words of Vati and Gilbert and the preacher and Feliciano. He couldn't think of what he wanted-he didn't even know what he wanted, or how he felt about all of this.

'You're pushing your hair back again.' Feliciano's voice was soft and sober as hand brushed along the back of his, and Ludwig stopped.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologize.' Feliciano smiled, swinging his legs. 'Can you tell me about Germany? I've never been there. Nonno said he had, but it was a long time ago and he doesn't like to talk about it anymore.'

'What do you want to know about?' Ludwig asked.

Feliciano moved closer. 'Tell me...tell me about the war. The one right now.'

Feliciano's eyes were bright gold in the safe shadows of the art shop, and Ludwig knew that this time, like every other time Feliciano asked, he could not say no but he couldn't tell everything. It's a _secret_ , that's what he knew, a secret because nobody-especially Feliciano, with his art and questions and the way he looked at him and made him feel like flying-would look at him the same way again if he explained.

He can't know that Vati was willing to stay if not for the fact that he didn't want Ludwig growing up there, if not for the argument that'd shaken the walls, the one that made Ludwig so terrified of heights because he'd crawled up into the attic rafters, so sick of being kept in the dark, only to hear his brother scream back and what he'd heard had made him sick with terror. Every time he got up high all he could hear was his world falling apart.

 _You did what?_

 _You don't understand, they are the most beautiful person in the world to me-_

 _You're a disgrace._

 _Disgrace or not I'm your daughter's son. And Ludwig is too._

 _You've endangered us all_.

Gilbert had kissed someone he wasn't supposed to. He hadn't been careful with all the wire taps everyone knew were in the windows, he'd said too many things about the _war we don't talk about_ and mixed it with too many _love you_ s and jokes that might not have been jokes about tearing down the _Wall we don't talk about either_ , and now the Stasi was coming for him.

The state didn't care that Gilbert was not yet fifteen and wouldn't hurt anyone, that he was kinder than he looked and braver than anyone and always told Ludwig _I won't let anyone hurt you_ and _you're gonna have a better future_ , they didn't care that he helped Ludwig through a world he didn't understand at all. They were coming to lock him away.

They'd left before it could happen. Ludwig didn't know how they'd been able to leave on the plane. He wasn't supposed to ask questions. He kept his thoughts to himself.

He kept thinking that maybe it was best if he didn't know, if he hadn't climbed into the rafters and had kept his head down, he'd have been happier, and then Feliciano came and knocked his life wide open and made him do things and ask questions because there was no other way to understand, and Ludwig _wanted_ to understand Feliciano. He wanted to understand and be understood so deeply it scared him.

'Vati's scared of the Red Army,' he began, remembering Gilbert, tripping on his words, clenching his fists. 'He made a lot of decisions to get away from them, and finally he moved us here.'

'It's okay to be scared of things,' Feliciano said in a small voice. 'You know, we moved here because Nonno said he wanted a fresh start, away from Venice, in a place where nobody knew the fear of the wars, which I didn't understand because I think I could spend my entire life in Venice, war or not, it's where I grew up-or, at least that's what I thought until I met you, Ludwig, and I'm really glad I moved to America because you're here.' He smiled, eyes crinkling around the corners. 'Lovino wanted to move to Rome, that's where he was born, but Nonno said we were going to Houston instead. Ludwig, have you ever been to Venice or Rome? I want to take you there when we're grown up, after Europe is safe and then you can show me Berlin without the wall in it.'

'Why was your brother born in Rome if you were born in Venice?' Ludwig asked. Feliciano looked at a loss for answers for a moment.

'Because...because my mother moved to Venice after she had Lovino. Nonno thought the sea air might make her better.' He looked out the window, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

'I'm sorry, Feliciano,' Ludwig said, helpless in the face of the raw emotion. Feliciano shook his head and smiled, surreptitiously brushing at his eyes.

'It's fine. You didn't know. Not...not a lot of people do.' He took a deep breath, stretching out a hand to him, a sad, gentle half-smile lingering on his face, so utterly pained Ludwig ached deep with the inability to stop his hurt, with the fear that he was holding with such a deep part of his artist. 'Venice has a lot of flowers, you know. She loved them, and so did I.'

'Do you not anymore?'

'There hasn't been many flowers here.' Feliciano's eyes caught his, gold bright like a flower after a rainstorm.

'I should open the shop again soon,' Francis declared, striding out from the back, tucking a paperback into his apron pocket. Feliciano straightened, but did not move away. 'If either of you two have any more questions, my door is always open.' He fixed both Ludwig and Feliciano individually with his gaze before chuckling and reaching for the phone. 'Run along now, I'll be calling your brother and Antonio.'

'Thank you,' Feliciano said, all traces of his painful confession tucked away. Their hands brushed again. 'Are you coming?' he asked at the door, when Ludwig still had not moved from the chair.

'Soon,' Ludwig said. Feliciano nodded and closed the door.

Ludwig brought the book on drawing to Francis. He wanted something of Feliciano's beauty in the world. He wanted Gilbert to be wrong about him not understanding Feliciano because he wasn't an artist. He had felt the sheer intensity of Feliciano's emotions and he understood what Feliciano meant about wanting to draw. Before he could open his mouth, Francis shook his head.

'It's on the house,' he said, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced out to where Antonio had pulled up outside and was talking enthusiastically. Ludwig thanked him and tucked the book inside his black jacket before pulling it shut around his own secret, over his church clothes, and going to meet Feliciano outside.

0o0o0o

Feliciano hadn't been able to show Ludwig his painting, because Nonno had said it was time for supper.

His emotions still felt jumbled and raw from confessing, but it had hurt in a good way, like taking off a weight he'd carried for a long time and stretching out towards the sun. Like a flower towards the rain, like looking into Ludwig's bluer-than-the-sky eyes.

'Did you find any girls?' Nonno asked, pointing at Feliciano with his fork. Feliciano startled out of his thoughts.

'No.'

'Why not?' he teased. 'Lovino? Have you?'

'I was painting,' Feliciano lied in a rush. 'Lovino was-'

'Driving around.' Lovino took another bite and chewed like he was daring anyone to ask again.

'How does your painting not have girls falling at your feet?' Nonno joked. 'And Lovi, boy, what car have you gotten? Don't tell me if you won it through gambling, just tell me you haven't lost too much-'

'It's Antonio's car,' Lovino interrupted. His ears were red. Feliciano took another bite as an excuse not to have to comment on what would happen next.

'Antonio?' Nonno frowned, brows furrowed. 'Why would he-'

'He was driving me and Ludwig downtown,' Feliciano explained hurriedly. 'And Lovino was invited.'

'It's too damn hot in the house all the time to stay around,' Lovino added. 'You still haven't fixed the air-conditioning, have you?'

'I'm getting to it, there's no reliable mechanics in the area.' Nonno was distracted, he wouldn't bring up Antonio again. Feliciano felt guilty for a reason he didn't quite understand, down to who he felt the guilt towards.

'Gilbert fixed the motor of our lawnmower once, maybe he could help,' Feliciano offered. Nonno paused, nodding thoughtfully.

'We can ask him tomorrow. I don't appreciate the stunt he pulled in church, but having a mechanic boy next door certainly has it's uses.' He chuckled, looking contemplatively towards Ludwig's house. 'Though I never knew Aldrich as the type to have one of his boys become a mechanic.'

'Do you know him?' Feliciano asked. He recognized the look in his grandfather's eyes, something of an old memory.

Roma went still, eyes fixed on the window where Aldrich was talking to his grandsons. After a moment, he shook his head and gave a laugh that sounded strained to Feliciano.

'I have enough of a grasp on his character to know that about him in just a few days, Feliciano,' he said, patting his head. Feliciano nodded and went back to eating, the knowledge that his grandfather hadn't answered his question stuck in his head.

0o0o0o

That night, Feliciano crept over to Lovino's room and eased open the door. His lamp was on but muted under his pillowcase thrown over the shade, and he was frantically flipping through a thin paperback book, muttering to himself. When he saw Feliciano, he shoved the book under his bare pillow, ears red.

'What are you doing up?' he whispered furiously. 'You were supposed to go to bed an hour ago, Feliciano.'

'I want to know some things,' Feliciano said. Lovino hesitated, eyes flicking between him and the open door, before he muttered a curse and leaned further back against his headboard, patting the spot beside him.

'Just close the door, will you?'

Ecstatic, Feliciano did and bounded over to sit beside his brother. Lovino looked down at him with a glimmer of fondness in his hazel eyes.

'Did Francis not have the answers you wanted to hear?'

'He did,' Feliciano said emphatically. 'But I need to know some other things, and you might read about them or Antonio knows because he assists the preacher.'

'Feliciano-'

'Why does the preacher hate homosexual people?' Feliciano pressed. 'What's wrong with them?'

'It is-it is God's law that a marriage is a man and a woman,' Lovino recited. His hands clenched periodically into fists on the bedsheets. 'You heard him, Feliciano. I don't need to repeat it.'

'But why?'

'Because-because it's wrong, Feliciano, I don't know how else I can get it through to you.' His eyes flashed dangerously, but Feliciano held on, all his words pulling him into bad decisions again.

'But Antonio-'

'Don't bring Antonio into this,' Lovino spat. 'You wouldn't-you can't understand that, I told you.'

'You're friends, what is there not to understand?' Feliciano said, but something about that felt strange now. 'Like me and Ludwig.'

'No. Not like you and Ludwig,' Lovino said sharply, and nothing more.

'Why not?' Feliciano asked. Lovino wouldn't answer. 'I heard you,' Feliciano said. 'You said Antonio had to decide between the scripture and you, and he said he had always-'

'You heard?' Lovino grabbed him, terror and rage flashing across his face. Feliciano's mind went blank, fear encompassing his thoughts, scrabbling back against the bed.

'I'm sorry, I couldn't find you and I heard you talking, and Lovino, he said he'd decided on you from the moment he saw yo-'

'I know! I know what he said!' Lovino nearly shrieked, only the quiet hour stopping him from screaming. Feliciano fell off the bed and scrambled to the door, hesitating for a moment more as the final piece of the puzzle fit so perfectly he didn't know how he'd never seen it before.

'Lovino, are you really just friends with Antonio?' he asked. 'Because Francis said-'

Lovino slammed his hands against the door frame and Feliciano crumpled to the ground with a squeak, petrified.

'Never say that again,' Lovino said in a quiet voice that chilled Feliciano to his bones. Without further argument, Feliciano turned and stumbled back to his room. He heard Lovino close and lock his door, and then the heavy thud of something being thrown against it. Feliciano sat down on his bed and noticed his hands were shaking. Lovino never acted like that.

He scrawled a note and flicked a pencil at Ludwig's window, needing to talk. It opened almost immediately and so he crumpled the note and swung himself up to sit on the sill.

'Feliciano? Feliciano, you're shaking,' Ludwig said, immediately concerned. Feliciano nodded. It wasn't entirely from fear, the air had cooled off and now he was shivering. Ludwig ducked down and came up with his black coat, which he tossed over. Feliciano caught it and gratefully slipped into the warmth.

'I tried to talk to Lovino,' he said. Ludwig's face tightened.

'Did he repeat what the preacher said?'

'Yes. And no. It started like that but when I asked him about Antonio he got furious and told me never to say those things again.' He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to forget the sound of Lovino's rage. 'Oh! I have your painting!'

Ludwig's brow furrowed, and he carefully settled on the ledge. His body was definitely more muscular, Feliciano noted, especially in the chest and the tilt of his limbs.

He tore his eyes away and carefully picked up the painting, untaping their language map from the back and setting it back on his dresser. He looked up and smiled at Ludwig to see him breathe in and smile back, and slid carefully onto the roof beneath him.

'Feliciano, be careful. You won't be able to use your arms to balance,' Ludwig told him.

'You will!' Feliciano sat down, stretching his bare feet along the cool tiles. 'Come on. I'll give it to you.'

Ludwig's eyes went to the drop first, and Feliciano sobered. He set the painting aside and held out his hand, balancing carefully on the slope. 'I won't let you fall, Ludwig. I will never let you fall. I promise.'

Ludwig took his hand and silently, after a wavering moment, dropped to the roof, feet skidding before he caught himself.

Feliciano cheered as loud as he could in the quiet, gently tugging him to sit cross-legged, and handed over the painting.

'You don't look afraid,' he said. Ludwig nodded, drinking in the details of the painting with an intensity that made Feliciano blush.

'I said, didn't I? I do this for you. I'm not afraid around you.'

Feliciano was caught off-guard for once, stunned utterly silent. Ludwig tilted his head and smiled, and his bluer than sky eyes caught the moonlight and glowed.

'It's true, you know,' he said confidentially, before going back to the painting. In the utter stillness and silence, Feliciano could see his breathing, chest rising and falling beneath his thin tank top. He wasn't wearing much else, just his shorts. Feliciano didn't know how Ludwig wasn't cold. He didn't know how he hadn't heard his heart pounding out of his chest yet. He didn't know how Ludwig said and did those things that filled his head with the most wonderful kind of confusion and made the world spin in good ways. Ludwig's word for beautiful sounded like wonder, and in this moonlight, everything was filled with a deep kind of wonder.

'It's yours,' Feliciano said, and his voice caught. 'The painting.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **The emergence of new cultures and their reasons and effects are intriguing.**

 ** _:: Hearing a singer's inflections_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Learning about things like music and painting makes me want to learn how to do them.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig hadn't been sure what Vati would think of Feliciano's painting. He didn't want to get dragged into the arguments, but he wanted Feliciano's painting.

He eventually put it next to the door, where Feliciano could see it, but it wasn't obvious. It was still a shock to see himself in paint after a few days, and he paused for a second to appreciate Feliciano's touch in it before going to knock on Gilbert's door. Ludwig heard a lot of papers being crumpled before Gilbert opened the door, defiant expression changing into bewildered happiness.

'You surprised me. What's happening?' he asked, ruffling Ludwig's hair with a smile.

'I need to go get something downtown.'

'This late? No, we'll go. Just write a note and put it on the door.' Gilbert shut the door again, and Ludwig heard him straightening all his papers and shoving his flute back under his bed before he came back out with a pen and a notebook. 'What are you getting? Isn't that book for drawing, not painting?'

Ludwig stiffened. Gilbert's grin dropped.

'Sorry.'

'It is,' Ludwig said. 'I just didn't think you saw.'

'I did.' Gilbert took the pen back and idly flipped it between his fingers, studying Ludwig in a way that looked slightly pained, like he was trying to find the right words. 'I also saw the painting you hung up.'

'It's by Feliciano,' Ludwig said. Gilbert jerked his head and scoffed, but not in a bad way.

'I know. You can see it practically in every stroke, he's completely-' He stopped.

'He's what?'

'Nothing. Come on, we're going. Remember to stick that on the door.'

Ludwig was distracted by the implications of whatever Feliciano was, and didn't notice he was still clutching the note until they were halfway down the road.

'Gilbert!' he yelled. Gilbert swore and slammed on the brakes as they skidded to the side of the road, whirling to face him.

'What's wrong?'

'I forgot...' Ludwig held up the note, shame flooding his chest. Gilbert stared at it for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw working. 'We have to turn around.'

'No.' Gilbert turned back around and gunned the engine, pulling them back onto the tarmac. Ludwig grabbed the sides of his seat, more than a bit terrified by his brother's sudden change.

'Gilbert, Vati will-'

'I don't care!' Gilbert screamed, flooring the accelerator. His nails dug into the wheel. 'Frankly, little brother, I don't give a _damn_ what Vati thinks right now. We're going.'

Ludwig kept his head down and tried not to feel sick that this was his fault.

0o0o0o

When they pulled alongside the first rows of buildings, Gilbert finally eased off the accelerator. His nails had left marks on the wheel, and his whole posture looked pained and contorted, down to the raggedness of his breaths.

'Where do you need to go?' he asked quietly.

'Gilbert,' Ludwig began fearfully. Gilbert shook his head.

'Where?'

'The gardening building,' Ludwig relented.

'Can you get there on your own?' he asked. His eerie calmness was worse than his raging. Ludwig nodded, but when Gilbert didn't look back-Ludwig noticed he was shaking-he spoke.

'Yes.'

'Good. Meet me at the music hall in an hour. They're not too far apart, are they?'

'No.'

Gilbert silently drove a few more blocks before he stopped. Ludwig got out and watched as he accelerated wildly down a wider street. His tangled white hair made him look like a disgraced angel.

He silently unfolded the note he'd crumpled into illegibility and started walking, wishing quietly that Feliciano had been there, because Gilbert couldn't resist Feliciano when he started talking. Gilbert had said it, back when Ludwig had dug the piano music out, that what happened was _not in front of the neighbors_.

Ludwig shook his head to clear away the thoughts-no use wondering now, and kept walking.

The gardening and landscaping building was a massive, sprawling affair, full of the earthy smell of soil and the quiet rumble of water. Ludwig loved the solitude, and wandered for a while through the mazes of flowers in neat pots before he found what he wanted at the end. They didn't look like much, the flower seeds in tiny packets, but they were important, even if he knew next to nothing about gardening. He asked the nearest person for advice.

They were a small boy, shorter than Feliciano, with curious brown eyes and short black hair.

'I need help with flowers,' Ludwig said, suddenly awkward.

'What kind of flowers do you want?' He was quiet, and his reasonable tone among the hum of the water helped Ludwig forget the last half hour, but he still didn't know what kind of flowers he needed.

'You choose,' he said. The boy looked faintly surprised, and picked out a few packets.

'What are they for?'

'Feliciano Vargas,' he said before thinking. 'He's my-my friend.'

'Feliciano?' The boy's eyes widened in remembrance. 'Heracles told me the Vargas family had moved in recently.'

'He's from Venice, and if you knew what kinds of flowers grew there…'

'He won't want the chrysanthemums.'

'Why?'

The boy glanced up at him. 'Chrysanthemums are mourning flowers in Italy. I don't see them that way, however.' He offered a hand. 'My name is Kiku, after all.'

'I'm Ludwig.' He shook. 'I don't understand why…'

'Kiku means chrysanthemum.' Kiku picked up a few more packets, adding one to a pile already lying on the counter. 'Which of these flowers do you think he will like?'

'I don't know anything about flowers,' Ludwig confessed. 'It's-this is important, though. I think he misses Venice.'

Kiku gazed at him, brown eyes unreadable, before he smiled and handed Ludwig a packet of cornflower seeds.

'He'll like these,' he assured him.

Ludwig thanked Kiku and paid. He didn't want to go back to Gilbert so soon, though, and lingered by the plants, unwilling to leave this quiet sanctuary.

Kiku finally sat down next to him.

'Is something wrong?' he asked.

'I'm supposed to meet my brother at the music hall,' he said. Kiku looked puzzled, and Ludwig knew he had to explain. 'Gilbert.'

He wasn't sure what to make of the change on Kiki's face. It was something like respect and something like realization, like his perception of Ludwig was changed. The only person who'd never had that change was Feliciano.

'I apologize,' he said. 'You are related to Gilbert Beilschmidt?'

'I know we don't look alike,' Ludwig said. Kiku shook his head in surprise.

'You look very much alike. You hold yourselves the same,' Kiku said. Ludwig didn't know if it was a compliment or not. 'He's an exceptional musician, you know. The only person better in the entire hall is Roderich, of course.'

'Are you a musician?' Ludwig asked, wondering privately why his entire life seemed to be surrounded by artists and why he didn't know or mind it. 'Hold on, who is Roderich?'

'I intend to play in the strings section one day.' Kiku was looking at him strangely, like he thought Ludwig might be joking. 'Are you sure you've never heard of Roderich?'

'Gilbert doesn't tell me anything,' Ludwig said bitterly. 'He doesn't tell the hall about me, either.'

'I suppose not.' Kiku frowned in contemplation for a second before sitting straighter up. 'Roderich Edelstein is the piano player transferred here from Austria for a few months. On his own request, apparently. He's acclaimed nationally and devoted to his art, and he seems to be competing with your brother over who is the better musician.'

'Gilbert is competition for _Edelstein_?' Ludwig asked in astonishment. 'I've heard of him, back in Germany. He's a genius. Gilbert is-Gilbert can't be real competition for him.'

'Your brother is a better artist than you'd think,' Kiku said. 'Rumours have been going around, not that I have listened-that Roderich transferred here simply to face off against him.'

0o0o0o

Ludwig was still thinking of whatever was apparently happening in his brother's music hall long after he'd left the gardening building. The piano sheets must be from his competition with Edelstein. Kiku had promised to tell him more another day, and given him directions to a garden he frequented, but now Ludwig needed to find the music hall.

He was sure he was late when he finally arrived, and that Gilbert would be furious, but the front steps were deserted. Ludwig waited in the foyer, worry growing with every minute until a sleek car pulled up to the front and his brother got out, the prickling rage gone from every inch of his body as he grinned and spoke to whoever sat in the shaded backseat, the easy position of his body-arm slung over the roof as he leaned in, reaching for someone hidden there-speaking of something much more than a simple taxi ride.

When Gilbert finally turned around from watching the car pull away, he spotted Ludwig watching, wide-eyed, and froze. Both of them stared across the stairs, wondering how much the other had seen.

Gilbert broke the stillness and strode up to him, brow furrowed in concern instead of rage. Ludwig searched his face for any trace of the morning's anger, but all he found was guilt.

'I'm sorry,' Gilbert said. 'I shouldn't have done what I did. I was really bad-but it's not just this morning, is it? I haven't been a very good big brother to you.'

Ludwig didn't answer, too relieved to have Gilbert back. Gilbert's eyes flicked over his face, trying to gauge his reaction, before he laughed. 'You can say it. I know I haven't been doing what I'm supposed to.'

'You're not supposed to fight when I'm downstairs,' Ludwig said. It came out sounding pitiful, and his throat closed off. Gilbert hesitated and gently embraced him, untangling his hair.

'I know. I know. I'm sorry. I'm trying not to fight with him. We just can't agree on things, and your big brother's a bit of a bastard, you know. I can't keep my mouth shut when it should be.'

'Like in church?'

'No. I do need to speak out there. He's wrong, you know. I said I didn't support what he's against, but that was a lie.' Gilbert glanced up at the hall for anyone who might have heard, but Ludwig had seen the gleam in his eyes in Feliciano's when he caught onto an adventure.

And then the rest of it hit him, and the scattered pieces Ludwig had managed to glean of what had happened to move them here now started to come together.

'Are you…' Ludwig couldn't ask, the words got stuck on his tongue. He needed to talk to Feliciano and tell him everything about Edelstein. 'Are you going to fight with Vati when we get home over leaving without permission?'

'No.' Gilbert hefted a bag and dropped it in his lap. Ludwig opened it and found weights, for some reason. 'The story is that I snuck out to get exercise stuff. He can't get mad.' Gilbert ruffled his hair again. 'Come on, the car's this way.'

0o0o0o

Vati didn't say anything about sneaking out when they finally got home. Gilbert threw Ludwig a look that looked too triumphant and exhilarated. Gilbert managed a smile back and went to his room.

The heat clung to him, making all his moves sluggish. All he'd really done since Feliciano gave him his painting was read the book on drawing and practice and listen to Gilbert complain about the heat. Now that it was cooler in the evenings, it was the only time he was willing to move around. He didn't know how Feliciano stood it.

He wrote a note and hung it up before going back to practicing drawing. It was harder than it looked, because he kept accidentally drawing Feliciano. It was hard not to. He had an energy and brightness about him and he made sense, all his lines falling into the right places.

Ludwig groaned and tore off the top sheet in his notebook again. Feliciano had said that Ludwig could model for him, which made Ludwig confused in that sort of way Feliciano always did to him, but maybe if he did, he could ask Feliciano to stand still or just hold his blinding kinetic energy in the same place for more than half a second so Ludwig could sketch out the way his limbs always moved like he was dancing or running or something between the two.

He tore off that sheet too, reprimanded himself for blushing, and tried to draw a tree. The hard part was not drawing the apple tree in Feliciano's backyard and the universes he could pull out of thin air and capture in paint.

Something caught in the back of his mind, and Ludwig went to go look at Feliciano's painting. It was him, definitely, although brighter and braver-looking than he felt, but there was something about the painting that said knight to him. A shimmer in the grass that might be a sword or the way his coat rippled like a cape.

A pencil tapped on his window, and Ludwig spun around, hastily covering the discarded drawings lying on his desk, burying his manuals. Feliciano waved.

'Hello,' Ludwig whispered, sitting on the ledge. Feliciano slid down to sit on the roof, swinging his legs.

'Hello! You look happy.'

'I think I am,' Ludwig said. Feliciano smiled.

'I'm glad. You know, when you smile, all I can think is _sei bello._ '

Ludwig fumbled a response and tried to remember facts. 'I learned something about Gilbert's music from someone I met called Kiku,' he said. 'Gilbert's competing with a pianist, Roderich Edelstein.'

'I heard of Roderich!' Feliciano exclaimed. 'I didn't know he was here, and you said Gilbert was competing with him? He must be really good.'

'I know.'

Ludwig didn't know how to tell Feliciano things, or ask him things, because they were alone in the quiet sunset and all he could think of was that Feliciano's eyes were the exact colour of the clouds. He didn't know if he regretted the flowers now, it had been a stupid decision-but he still pulled them out.

'You said you missed flowers,' Ludwig said. Feliciano's eyes widened, and he did nothing for a long moment. Ludwig cursed himself and started to apologize when Feliciano stood up and grabbed his hand.

'Thank you,' he said. 'Ludwig, thank you so much.'

Ludwig tripped over his words again and nodded. Feliciano squinted at the back of the packet and giggled.

'Do you want to plant them now?'

'In your garden?'

'Yeah.' Feliciano crawled towards the edge before slipping off. Ludwig held his breath before he waved. 'I'll be right here.'

Feliciano didn't seem to be scared of anything, not like he was, but even heights didn't seem so bad when Feliciano was nearby.

'You've got this,' Feliciano said. Ludwig shut his eyes against the argument in his head and let himself drop.

'You're doing really well,' Feliciano said. 'I would kind of like to get better at my fears, but I also don't want to get tons of splinters because I would almost definitely get infected, and then I'd really have a reason to be afraid and it wouldn't just be an irrational fear.' He paused, fiddling with the packet. 'Ludwig, I don't think yours is an irrational fear. You'd never be scared of anything without reason.'

'But it isn't-' Ludwig stopped. He did have a reason, he just didn't like it. 'It's not irrational.'

'You're getting better.' Feliciano smiled again and opened the packet. 'I don't have any tools, so you should probably take off anything that you don't want to get dirty.'

Ludwig took off his jacket. Feliciano left on his smock, but took off his hat before pushing his hands into the flowerbed.

'I've never grown cornflowers before,' he said, busy digging the first hole. The moonlight silvered his hair and the lines of his face. 'I've heard they're beautiful.'

'I've never grown any flowers,' Ludwig said. Feliciano looked surprised.

'Never? Well, you can help me grow these ones.' He dug further into the flowerbed, stretching his fingers out. A stray curl stuck up when it wasn't held down by his cap, and Ludwig suddenly and fiercely wanted to draw him like this, the moonlight silvering his eyelashes and the earth in his hands.

'You're staring,' Feliciano said softly. Ludwig looked back at the flowerbed, but Feliciano's soil-covered hand touched his and brought his eyes back up. 'What are you thinking about?'

'I want to draw you,' Ludwig confessed.

'You draw?'

'I'm learning.'

'Ludwig, that's amazing,' Feliciano said, with that honesty that made his heart do cartwheels. His eyes stayed gold in the silver and when he smiled he was the most beautiful person in the world.

 **0o0o0o**

 **However, writing doesnt require buying paint nor an instrument, so I make do.**

 ** _:: Pale cream in old movies_**


	12. Chapter 12

**Recoloured photographs are an incredible look at life.**

 **0o0o0o**

It was a hot afternoon and Ludwig was staring up at the clouds, mind drifting, when Feliciano first brought up the future.

'Where are you going for school?'

'Downtown.' Ludwig was hesitant to look away from the clouds. 'Gilbert goes to the same school. Near the concert hall.'

'I have to choose a school, too.' Feliciano sounded distracted. Ludwig finally looked away.

'What's wrong?'

'I don't like thinking of the future.' He was peeling the bark off his sword stick, piling it against the flowerbed. 'It was just scary when we first started to move from Venice. I never thought of he future then, and now I've forgotten how, if that makes sense.' His worried gold eyes flicked up from the sword. 'Do you ever worry about the future? That things might never get better?'

'Feliciano!' Ludwig had never heard him like this. 'Things can't get worse. We've already had a war. The government won't let us have another.'

'Are you sure?' Feliciano's eyes shimmered slightly in the heat. When Ludwig was lost for words, he shook his head and turned back to his stick. 'Sorry. I told you, I'm scared of war. Ignore me.'

'War isn't coming here.' Ludwig reached out and grabbed his hand on impulse, and Feliciano turned to him, the tension fading from his body. 'I promise. That's why we both came here. America is safe.'

A second later, he realized he'd said _both_ , but Feliciano didn't contradict him, just waited, breathing softly. Ludwig felt too hot underneath his coat suddenly, the thin T-shirt sticking to him.

'Feliciano, tell me again. Why did you come here?' he asked quietly. Feliciano laughed, but didn't pull away.

'Nonna wanted to come here. He said he needed to get away from the Italy of war he once knew.'

'Your grandfather was in the war?'

'He doesn't like to talk about it, but he was. He said he was in the army.'

'Vati was in the war, too.' Ludwig didn't want to let go of his hand. It seemed to push back the coldness of war. 'He told Gilbert once, and Gilbert told me. He fought the Red Army.'

'I wonder if they ever…' Feliciano fell silent.

'What?'

'I was going to ask if they met, but that would mean they fought,' Feliciano finished, and they sat together in silence.

'Not always.'

'I think that's worse,' Feliciano said. 'The idea of having to fight someone you once knew. I don't think I could do it.'

'We'll never have to,' Ludwig promised. Feliciano did that to him-made him promise things he didn't know if it was possible to, and that was okay.

'Good. I'm glad, I'm really glad. I don't want to be enlisted to fight. Sometimes I don't even want to learn about the war, but I know it's important.' He managed a curve to his mouth, not quite a smile. 'I-I'll ask Nonno about his army.'

'I'll ask Vati,' Ludwig echoed, even knowing that his was a different scenario than Feliciano's.

'Are you sure?'

'Gilbert and I should both know,' Ludwig said firmly. 'We should learn so we don't repeat any mistakes.' Feliciano nodded, searching his face, and smiled for real.

'It's strange that we can prevent wars and things like that by remembering. I didn't think I could, but you have a funny way of changing people to be stronger, Ludwig, did you know? I don't think you do.' He fell back into the grass and laughed. His eyes were every shade of bronze in the light. 'I want to tell you everything I know about you, but I don't think I have the words to express it.'

For once, Ludwig understood what he was saying, and wanted to tell Feliciano he felt the same, and that he had drawings itching at his fingertips, begging to be expressed.

'I know,' he said, and Feliciano slowed, eyes serious and bright. He nodded once, and Ludwig lay down and went back to staring at the sky.

'We'll stay friends, right?' Feliciano asked after a long while. Ludwig squeezed his hand, still in his.

'Of course,' he said, and knew he could keep this promise.

0o0o0o

Feliciano went out to find Nonno and ask, but he was gone. He found Lovino instead, who threw him half a look over the top of his book and immediately strode over to wipe the grass stains off his face.

'Can I borrow your penknife?' Feliciano asked.

'Why?' Lovino was still preoccupied with rubbing out the grass stains, and Feliciano's cheek stung, but he gritted his teeth.

'I want to carve something.'

'If you cut yourself, Nonno will kill me and I will never let you use my knife again,' Lovino threatened, but gave it over. He wasn't even supposed to have it, but he'd shown Feliciano back in Venice when they were closer, just a year or so ago, before the announcement that they were moving.

'Where's Nonno?'

'Out. He's always out now. You are, too.' He fixed Feliciano's paint smock strap and clicked his tongue.

'Always?'

'You are too, didn't you hear me? That's why you don't notice. He's always at our neighbors. I think he's talking to Aldrich.'

Feliciano looked out the window and saw a flash of his grandfather's coppery hair against blond braids through the shades.

'Why?'

'Don't ask me.'

'I think it's because of his army days,' Feliciano said. Lovino pressed his lips together. 'Why doesn't he talk about them?' Feliciano pressed.

'Would you?' Lovino gathered his books with sharp movements and set off towards his room. 'Feliciano, it's nothing. Nonno was in the army, and Aldrich was probably conscripted as well. They just want to talk about it. Leave them alone.'

But as Feliciano turned and caught another flash of narrowed blue eyes hard with frustration and the pained, sorrowful scowl of his grandfather through the half-closed slats, he wasn't so sure.

The first few slices with the penknife were uneven, and Feliciano took a while to get used to it before he whittled down a sword. He could faintly see what was happening through Ludwig's kitchen window. His grandfather seemed to be pacing while Aldrich stood stonily. Feliciano couldn't tell if they were arguing or not; every move was soaked with a deep kind of pain and fear and anger. That was what war did to people, Feliciano thought with a sick, hot jolt in his stomach. It made them angry and fearful even after the peace was declared.

The peace didn't put everything back together the way it used to be. It was good, but it left people trying to clean up what the violence had taken. He stripped off another curl of wood and imagined war reshaping so many people, cutting them down to the bare essence of humanity.

Feliciano thought of what Lovino would be like after a war and a burningly cold hand twisted his insides. He thought of Ludwig changed, his hesitant kindness hidden underneath the anger and pain. Feliciano remembered too often the way Ludwig said he wasn't supposed to ask questions, all his silent acceptance of the way his brother and grandfather fought, and the branch cracked in his hands.

The marrow of the branch was dark and stained his hands. Feliciano buried it in the flowerbed and went back inside to give Lovino his penknife back.

'What school are you going to?' he asked. Lovino shrugged, too intent on frantically scribbling things down from his book.

'It's downtown.'

'Near the concert hall?' Feliciano asked with a hint of relief. He could look forward to a future if Ludwig was in his classes and they could pass notes.

Lovino gave him a strange look. 'No, that one is like a military academy. We go to the other one.'

0o0o0o

Ludwig heard the muffled, angry words before he opened the door and braced himself, but when he opened the door, he saw Feliciano's grandfather arguing with Vati, and both stopped to stare at him with astonishment.

'Ludwig?' Vati asked. His voice was hoarser than usual, like he'd been shouting, or choked up.

'I want to talk to you,' Ludwig said. 'About the war.'

'You should leave,' Vati said to the man angrily leaning against the table. He didn't take his eyes off Ludwig. Feliciano's grandfather gave Vati a sort of look as he left, the kind of look Lovino gave Antonio when he didn't think he was watching-angry and wistful and deep.

When he was gone, Vati settled in a chair. 'What do you want to know?'

Ludwig was taken aback at how easily he had gotten to the information. 'What did you do in the war?'

'I fought against the Red Army,' he said simply.

'Why?' The word felt strange, like Feliciano was asking it.

'Because my country told me to.'

Feliciano would hate that answer. He would push for the rest of the story and find it, he would be able to be brave and bold enough to meet Vati's blue eyes and tell him he needed more.

Ludwig wasn't Feliciano. He nodded and left to think.

Gilbert was in the shade of a massive oak tree, sparring with his shadow. He'd first taught Ludwig the basics of sword fighting.

'What happened?' he asked by way of greeting, throwing his stick aside. It clattered against his unused weights.

'I tried to talk to Vati about the war.'

'Why?' Gilbert sounded unsurprised and resigned. It made Ludwig feel like he'd done wrong even though he hadn't.

'Because Feliciano thinks they might know each other from war.'

Gilbert stopped for a few seconds before he shook his head. 'It can't be,' he said. Ludwig would have asked more, but with a crack, the summer heat split and rain poured in.

'Look at that,' Gilbert said softly, tilting his face up to heaven. His skin glistened with rain. 'I would have liked to be downtown now.'

'Why?'

'The concert hall is better in the rain,' Gilbert said. No matter what, he said no more.

Feliciano was in the garden, mud splattered across his arms and knees, hair twisted into wildness by the wind. When he saw him, Ludwig relaxed and felt the cloudburst for the first time, grateful for the respite from the heat.

'The flowers will be happy,' Feliciano said cheerfully. He'd left his cap and smock inside, and the absence made him look new.

'Will you be?' Ludwig rolled up his trouser legs and knelt down. Feliciano gave him a trowel for the weeds.

'I think so. I love rain, it always cleans the world again. I still need to ask Nonno about the war. He came back a while ago, and the look on his face…' Feliciano shrugged and dug out another weed. 'I won't talk to him until he's better. Sometimes Lovino has the same look on his face when he comes back from Antonio, like he's scared of being happy.'

'I asked Vati about the war and all he said was that he fought the Red Army, but he was talking with your grandfather when I found him.' Ludwig stabbed at a weed, unsure what he was even angry about. 'I wish people would tell me things.'

'Hey, Ludwig.' Feliciano's voice was curious and soft.

Ludwig finally looked up from a stubborn weed to see Feliciano's face tilted upwards, the rain making his hair curl off the back of his neck. It made his shirt stick to his runner's body. His eyes were closed.

He opened his eyes and the rain all around made Ludwig's heart stutter.

'I can tell you things, but they probably aren't what you want to hear,' he said with a laugh, trying to push his hair back. Ludwig reached out and did it for him. In this moment, they were alone and the rain made the world softer, and Ludwig found Feliciano's hands in his.

'Say it,' he said. He wanted to hear anything Feliciano said.

'Sei bello,' Feliciano said softly. 'I want to say that every time I see you.'

'Du bist wunderschön,' Ludwig replied shakily. The world seemed to be tipping. Feliciano was close and his hands were faintly rough with paint and clay and creation.

'E ti amo,' he murmured, so softly Ludwig wasn't sure he was meant to have heard. 'I should say that, too.'

'What does it mean?'

Feliciano didn't answer for a long time. He looked up. It was like they were soaring among the raindrops.

'I'll tell you another day.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **It's strange to imagine certain history as vibrant as it was.**

 ** _:: The way light falls coincidentally in photographs_**


	13. Chapter 13

**It's worth reading old newspapers for the slang.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano saw Alfred and Arthur around, and Lovino was slowly warming up to talks, and Gilbert had laughingly agreed to teach him the workings of a car, but Feliciano couldn't stop thinking of Ludwig.

'What are you doing?'

Feliciano couldn't stop his smile as he unbent from the grimy engine, almost disbelieving that Ludwig was _here_ , with his bright blue eyes. 'If I tell you I'm trying to work an engine, you have to promise you won't tell Nonno I'm breaking his rule.'

'I promise, Feliciano.' Ludwig knelt down beside him and unscrewed the knob Feliciano had been having trouble with. He glanced up, a smile playing on his lips. 'Is this specifically because he told you not to?'

'Hey, don't go about doing things like me just to spite your old man,' Gilbert interjected. He waved a wrench playfully, but Feliciano could see the dark shadows under his eyes.

'I'm not,' Feliciano assured him. Gilbert snorted.

'Little brother, are you going to help?'

'I can, if you want.'

'Don't. Go have some fun. Summer is almost over. Feli, sorry for not being able to show you around your new school, but if anyone gives you trouble, just tell them you know Gilbert Beilschmidt and they won't bother you.' He grinned and ducked down again.

Feliciano wiped off the grease on his paint smock, put his cap back on, and stood up.

'Is Gilbert serious?' he asked when they were out of earshot. 'It makes him sound like he's part of a gang, but he's not, is he? I don't want you to get arrested because Gilbert did something illegal.'

Ludwig flinched slightly, but shook his head. 'He's just a musician.'

'What's wrong?'

'My arms are stiff,' Ludwig said, and even though Feliciano could see the lie in his eyes, he let it go. 'I've been trying to work out.'

'Really?' Suddenly, the image of the muscle magazines flashed through Feliciano's head, and he had never been more grateful for the heavy summer heat that he could blame the redness in his cheeks on. 'That's-that's really cool, and you're already strong, and-' He stopped before he could mention anything about how Ludwig's shoulders were almost too broad for his jacket and how he didn't understand why he couldn't stop staring. 'To celebrate that, and the end of summer, we should go do something.'

'Like what?'

'Go to the church,' Feliciano proposed. Ludwig looked at him strangely, but it faded into that dangerous thrill Feliciano had known was hidden underneath his quiet fear of asking questions.

The back door was still unlocked, and they crept through the dark passage towards the stairs that would hopefully lead to the main rooms of the church. Feliciano stared at anything except the box or Ludwig when they passed it, and was glad for the poor lighting.

'Feliciano.'

Feliciano turned to where Ludwig was examining the wall.

'People have signed their names here,' he said in wonder. 'Look at this-some of them are linked. Eliza and...and Emma, and what looks like a cursive L.'

'Why would they carve their names here?'

'To make sure they were remembered.'

Feliciano found a rough spot on the wall and frowned. 'Look at this. One of the names has been scratched out.'

' _Saxon_ and...I can only make out _Ba_. The rest is gone.'

'Maybe they had a falling-out,' Feliciano said, but he had a feeling something else was happening here on this secret wall. 'Are those flowers?'

Ludwig gingerly picked up one of the dusty green felts twisted into a flower and brushed it off. 'I think so. There's also purple ones.'

Feliciano took a green flower, uncrumpling the felt petals and wondering who had left it. The thought of so many other people in all their lives leaving flowers and carving their names knocked the breath from him.

'I want to carve my name here,' Feliciano decided. He didn't know why he wanted to be part of this secret, but it resonated in him like art. He picked up a sharp rock and began to sign, blood pounding, aware of Ludwig watching.

When the hand touched his shoulder he jumped. Ludwig solemnly handed over a pocketknife with a cross scratched into the blade. Feliciano turned it over and found a childish scrawl. _Property of the awesome Gilbert_.

'He gave it to me when we left Berlin,' Ludwig said. Feliciano nodded, throat strangely thick, and finished signing his name.

'Do you want to…?'

Ludwig took his knife back and added his name, linked together like so many others.

He looked over and Feliciano had once laid on his bed and dreamed of three thousand words to describe the exact blue of his eyes but the only one he could remember at the moment was _beautiful_ when Ludwig tucked it into his hair.

' _Sei bello_ ,' Ludwig said, and Feliciano's heart did funny things at his language in that accent, all wrapped up inside of him and glowing like a perfect secret.

' _Du bist wunderschön_ ,' he replied, tongue still tripping on the words even though he'd whispered them to himself the night after Ludwig had said them until the rhythm was humming in his heartbeat. He reached out and gave him his flower. Ludwig smiled.

Walking home, Feliciano watched the dusk add orange and red to the felt petals and imagined painting that, layering shades to capture the world on fire. He wished he had his camera.

'When we get home, can I take a picture of you?' Feliciano asked.

'If you want.'

'I do. Because you're beautiful, and I like you with flowers, and I like you regularly, too.'

'I'm...glad you like me,' Ludwig said, sounding almost bewildered, which Feliciano didn't understand because Lovino always said he was obvious when he liked someone.

'Can I give you flowers if I like you? I can give you the cornflowers. They match your eyes.' Feliciano could imagine Ludwig crowned with the blue flowers.

'I think I like flowers,' Ludwig said half-hesitantly. 'They're nice, but I've never grown them.'

'They're beautiful. In Venice, they always bloom at the same time.'

Quickly, as if he had been waiting for the right moment, Ludwig nudged him to ask a question. He was fiddling with his hair.

'Do you ever find girls beautiful, Feliciano?'

'I like them,' Feliciano said, taking his hand. 'I don't understand everything about them, though. Nonno says-well, he says a lot of things, but I don't know when I'm supposed to start understanding girls. I understand boys better. I understand you.' He was quiet, a small worry growing in his stomach. 'Do you...like girls, Ludwig? In the way that you think they're beautiful?'

'I think they're interesting, I guess.' Ludwig's ears were red. 'I don't understand them either. I don't-I have no idea, I haven't thought about it. I don't think I've ever thought about it, but...I think I like you, Feliciano.'

Feliciano laughed in delight, warmth spreading to the ends of his fingers. He didn't understand everything but what he did was that Ludwig liked him, and maybe he felt the same incredible way Feliciano did when he saw him, and that was enough for now. 'I'm glad. I'm really glad, because I think I really like you, too.'

0o0o0o

School was strange mostly because there was an empty space beside Feliciano that he kept turning to so he could point out pretty things.

Alfred and Arthur went to his school, but Lovino never talked to him. Feliciano tried to catch up to him in the halls, but he didn't even look at him.

He'd promised Ludwig they'd write, and he drew him pictures of the teachers and students, and in the nighttime when they sat on their roofs and the entire world was open and the stars were bright, Feliciano didn't know why he couldn't stop looking at the way Ludwig's shoulders cut in his thin tank tops.

He was doodling someone who wasn't supposed to have Ludwig's eyes and his hands with the calluses along the top of his palm when Alfred brushed him on his way to sit down. Feliciano looked up and was shocked by the drawn paleness of his face.

'Don't go in the bathroom,' he said lowly. 'I just went, and…'

'Why?'

'Someone's been writing things on the walls. They'll catch him eventually.' He forced a smile.

Feliciano had climbed on windowsills and looked at magazines, but sneaking off to the bathroom was different. He felt wrong doing this, and he was scared of what he would see written.

The words were scrawled over the divider wall in a sloppy marker. Someone had already tried to scrub the accusation away, with little luck.

 _Berwald is a_ -

Feliciano didn't understand the word, but he felt sick reading it and hurried back to class. He thought about asking Ludwig, but the word seemed wrong to even repeat.

Antonio had a habit of sometimes picking Lovino up after school, and Feliciano followed the next time he showed up.

'What are you doing?' Lovino demanded.

'I need to go downtown,' Feliciano said firmly. 'To talk to Francis. It's important. Please.'

Antonio caught his eyes in the backseat mirror and nodded. 'I'll take you to him.'

'What's so important?' Lovino asked.

'I saw a word written on the bathroom wall,' Feliciano said. Lovino's face hardened.

'Let's go,' he said.

0o0o0o

Francis took one look at him, closed the blinds, and flipped the sign to _Closed_.

'What happened?' he asked.

'I needed to ask you because I was scared of asking Ludwig,' he said shamefully. It didn't make sense, but he was scared that Ludwig would know what the ugly word meant, and how he knew. He took a deep breath. 'What does fag mean?'

Francis looked old in the seconds before he answered, his hair dusty in the pale light through the blinds.

'It's a horrible word to refer to someone who is homosexual.' His hands curled into slow fists on the arms of his chair. 'Where did you hear it?'

'It was written in the bathroom at school.'

'Of course.' Francis managed a smile and reached out to ruffle his hair. 'If you hear anyone using that word, leave.'

'Why?'

'People who use that word...sometimes like to hurt people who aren't the same as they are,' Francis said. 'Promise me, Feliciano, that if you hear that word being used, you'll leave.'

'What if they're attacking someone I know?'

Francis' face was ashen and ancient. He lifted a hand and touched a necklace Feliciano hadn't noticed before, strung with a few simple charms. Francis closed his eyes as he touched the cross, and an old agony echoed across his face.

'You can only save yourself sometimes, Feliciano,' he said softly.

0o0o0o

Feliciano was shivering that night as he threw pencils, hoping that Ludwig was awake. He was.

'What's wrong?' he asked as soon as he opened his window. Feliciano slid down onto the roof and wrapped his arms around himself, unable to voice the ugly fear growing inside him ever since he'd read the word. Ludwig carefully climbed down and held out his hand. Feliciano took it, unsure, but Ludwig was strong and he trusted him.

'Do you want to come in?' he asked.

'Can we do that?' Feliciano asked, voice rough.

'Vati won't know.' Ludwig gave him a secret sort of smile and pulled him to his feet.

Ludwig's room was warm. Ludwig was busy fixing something on his desk, and Feliciano noticed his painting on the wall.

'It was the only place it wouldn't be noticed by anyone but me.' Ludwig sat down on his bed beside Feliciano. 'What happened?'

'Someone wrote things in the bathroom. I asked Francis about the word.'

Ludwig went still. 'Was-was the word…'

'I didn't ask you because I was scared you'd know it.' Feliciano hunched his shoulders, and Ludwig gingerly wrapped an arm around him. 'I know that sounds stupid, but I didn't want to think that someone had said those things to you-because Francis said...'

'It's okay.' Ludwig leaned against him, and Feliciano closed his eyes, the fear of sneaking out fading away under the warmth. 'I do know the word.'

'Francis said that sometimes the people who say that word attack people who aren't like them,' Feliciano said, fearful of breaking whatever world they could have away from his new fears. 'Did you ever…'

'Yes.' Ludwig's fingers wound in his. 'It was back in Europe, when we were leaving for America. It doesn't matter now.'

The thought that Ludwig had experienced that sent a hot pulse of anger through Feliciano's stomach. 'Ludwig, I-were you hurt?'

'Why do you think Gilbert gave me his knife?' Ludwig closed his eyes. 'That doesn't happen here. It shouldn't.'

'When we're older, I'll find a place we can live where that never happens,' Feliciano promised sleepily. They sat together in silence, and Feliciano drifted until Ludwig gently shook him awake so he could go back to his room.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Newspapers give an unvarnished view on how things were perceived in the moment.**

 ** _:: Old trees that block the sun_**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'd like to try navigating a new city.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano first started hearing the rumours from Arthur. Alfred had enthusiastically invited him over during lunch, and Feliciano liked to draw the people sitting around the table.

'Beilschmidt's gotten into more trouble,' Arthur said one day, and the table echoed in agreement.

'Heard he ditched again.'

'Hell, he's going to get caught. I feel bad for his little brother.'

'Feliciano, you know them, don't you?' someone finally asked.

Feliciano nodded. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

'Gilbert Beilschmidt ditched his classes again,' a boy a few years older on the far end told him. Feliciano racked his brain and remembered he was called Toris. He had long brown hair and slightly sad eyes, and Feliciano liked drawing him.

'Why?'

Looks were passed around the table. Toris' friend scoffed and leaned forward.

'He's going to see someone, obviously. Like, why else would he be doing that?'

'You sound like you've snuck out of school before, Feliks.' Toris said.

'Well, yeah, I have.' Feliks tossed his hair and sent a glance Feliciano's way. Feliciano pushed his food around. He wasn't hungry anymore. All he could think of was the way Ludwig looked when Gilbert fought, and how Gilbert never seemed to stop doing it.

Feliks cleared his throat and looked around.

'Like, who wants my dessert today? I'm not hungry.'

'Me!' Alfred shouted. Feliks tossed it over and slid next to Feliciano in the scuffle.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing,' Feliciano said quickly. 'I just didn't know he did that.'

'You expected it, though. Didn't you.' It wasn't a question. Feliks flashed a quick smile, but his eyes were sad. 'I know Francis, we go way back, and I know that Gilbert's been doing some stuff, so if you like, ever want to talk, and not just about him, I know some people. We all get together and like...take a break.' His voice had dropped to a murmur, and Feliciano had a feeling what he was being told was precious information.

'I'm just worried about him,' Feliciano confessed. Feliks glanced back at Toris, and real pain flashed through his eyes.

'He'll find a way. We all do, in the end.' He stood up. 'Just don't mention Gilbert to Toris. They had a bad experience,' he said offhandedly.

'Thank you,' Feliciano said honestly. 'For offering to talk, because I'm worried, and is he really going to turn out okay?'

'He'll turn out or he'll be turned out,' Feliks said. His lips peeled back for a second in a sad snarl before he sat down. For the first time, Feliciano saw the bruises on his arms.

0o0o0o

Ludwig was home alone, and Feliciano knew because he saw him through the downstairs windows. He rung the doorbell, and the split-second of the closed-off expression Ludwig put on when he opened the door before he realized it was him hurt in the way empathy did.

'Ludwig, are you okay?'

'I'm fine.' Ludwig looked exhausted and drained as he let him in. His blue eyes looked faded, and the ache that had been building in Feliciano's heart not just since Gilbert had left school but since the very first time he knew Gilbert fought burst out of him.

'You aren't fine. You're never fine anymore, Ludwig, and that's-that's okay, because the way Gilbert argues with your grandfather isn't fine, and it's okay to be scared. I'm scared. I'm scared that Gilbert is going to do something really stupid.'

Ludwig was staring at him, and Feliciano thought that maybe he should think before he said things, but he couldn't stop all his burning emotions around Ludwig.

'I'm sorry,' Feliciano said.

'Don't be sorry.' Ludwig leaned back suddenly and took a sharp breath. His hands were clenched into fists. 'You're right. You're right, I'm scared of all of that but right now I'm scared because Gilbert-Gilbert hasn't come back.'

'What?'

'He always came back before. He'd skip a class and come back an hour later, and I'd see him huddled behind the bleachers putting his flute away. If he saw me, he'd say not to tell anyone, and so I haven't. Or I haven't until you.' Ludwig said the last part strangely, and Feliciano couldn't understand it enough. He focused on the rest.

'He's definitely going to the concert hall, then?'

Ludwig nodded once. His hands were white-knuckled. 'But he hasn't come back at all now, and Feliciano, I'm scared he might not. That's he's just-gone.'

'He has to come back.' A strange, ugly fury ignited in Feliciano's chest, out of all the sharp, helpless pain of seeing Ludwig like this. 'He can't just leave. He's your big brother, it's his duty to take care of you. He hasn't been doing that at all, has he?'

'He's busy,' Ludwig said quietly, but his lip curled.

'You need to talk to him when he comes back,' Feliciano insisted. 'I can be there too, if you want. Even if I'm not very strong, I'll be there for you.'

'I will.' Ludwig straightened up. 'I'm going to talk to him alone, and if he doesn't carry through on his promise to do better again, I want you.'

'Again?' Feliciano asked.

'He promises he'll stop fighting all the time.' Ludwig laughed bitterly, and Feliciano hated the sound in his voice, so different from his normal laugh. Feliciano realized with a start that except for in their talks across their windows, he never saw Ludwig smile anymore.

'I'm sorry,' was all he could say. It went much deeper than for failed promises. Ludwig brushed his hand underneath the table and gave him a faint smile. It was enough for now.

After a few minutes, Feliciano remembered what Feliks had told him.

'Feliks told me there's a place he goes to where people talk.' He wasn't sure how to convey the absolute surety that it was more than it seemed. 'That it's a place to take a break, and that if I ever wanted to talk about Gilbert…'

'Do you think the place knows how to make Gilbert stay?'

'Maybe.' It was a scrap of hope, and Feliciano grabbed at it. 'I'll ask tomorrow if Feliks can take us if Gilbert isn't back.'

'Even if he is.'

'Even if he is,' Feliciano agreed. They deserved answers.

0o0o0o

Gilbert didn't come back that night. Vati was quieter than usual during dinner, and even though it hadn't been in his resolution, Ludwig decided to talk to him. Feliciano made him different and pulled some strange courage from him. Feliciano made him fearless.

'Do you know where Gilbert is?'

'In a bus station downtown.'

That surprised him. 'If you know where he is, why isn't he here?'

'He refused to leave when I found him. I told him to come back when he wanted.' Vati turned and fixed him with his stare, and Ludwig's already-scrambled thoughts about standing up scattered. 'He will come back. He won't leave you.'

'What do you mean?' Ludwig asked. The words sounded small and scared even to him.

'If you weren't here, he would have left a long time ago. He's been telling me for years.'

'Oh.' Ludwig felt vulnerable being the only link Gilbert had to here. He shouldn't be responsible for keeping his family together. He was the reason they'd had to leave the West, and then the reason they had to move here. It was his fault.

'He'll be back,' Vati said. Ludwig couldn't decide whether he said it to reassure himself or not.

'Gilbert won't really run away.'

Vati didn't answer for a long time. When he did, all he said was, 'He's almost eighteen.'

0o0o0o

'Gilbert is staying for me.'

Feliciano looked up in shock, golden eyes reflecting the moonlight glassily.

'Your grandfather said that?'

'Gilbert had told him that if I wasn't here, he would have left a long time.' Ludwig wanted to collapse. He'd thrown his weights around for what must have been an hour before he tried to wake Feliciano, and now he was sore and dizzy. He didn't know what to feel. 'Feliciano, I'm not a good enough reason to stay.'

'Never say that again.' Feliciano was on his feet in a second, balancing between the ledges of their roofs. Ludwig's stomach twisted further in fear.

Feliciano dropped to his knees beside him, all brightness and creation and the way his skin felt tangled all his emotions up further.

'Feliciano-'

'You're a good enough reason for anyone.' Feliciano held him close. 'I promise. I'd stay here just for you, even if I was allowed to go back to Venice. Ludwig, when we're older we're going to Europe, and Gilbert won't have run away. Everything will be okay.'

When Feliciano said that to him, he could almost believe it. He believed everything up to everything being okay.

'Promise me,' he rasped.

'I promise,' Feliciano said. Ludwig closed his eyes and wondered where his brother was.

0o0o0o

Feliciano found Lovino sneaking back through his window when he went back to bed. They both froze, guilty evidence written across their faces and in their hands. Feliciano was still wearing his cap and the dust of roof tiles on his feet, and Lovino was covered in grass stains. They realized at the same time how little of each other they'd seen recently.

'I won't tell Nonno if you don't,' Lovino finally said.

'Where were you?' Feliciano asked.

'I got the grass stains by the church,' Lovino said.

'Where else did you go?'

'You don't care who I was with?' Lovino asked.

'You were with Antonio,' Feliciano said promptly. 'Because you're friends and he's who you go to when you think too much, and that's why I haven't seen you around.'

Lovino gaped at him before scoffing. 'Downtown.'

'Why were you downtown?'

'There was a party.' Lovino pointed down the hallway. 'It was nothing you need to worry about. Go to bed, or I'll tell Nonno-' Lovino cast for anything. 'I'll tell him about Ludwig.'

Ludwig didn't need more problems, but the threat still shook Feliciano in a way he couldn't fully understand. 'Don't. Please.'

'Then get out.'

0o0o0o

Gilbert still hadn't come back in the morning, and the fear in Ludwig's eyes cemented Feliciano's decision to ask about the place to talk. Unfortunately, Feliks wasn't at school the next day.

'He had a run-in with some people who he knew,' Toris said quietly at lunch.

'Did they-'

'He's not in the hospital. He just decided to stay home.' Toris stabbed at his food. 'Don't tell anybody what really happened, Feliciano. He wanted me to tell you so you understood, but his story is that he crashed on his bike.'

'Why would he lie?'

Toris looked at him with his sad eyes and shook his head. Francis' words echoed through his head, and Feliciano grabbed his arm.

'Wait. Was it because of-of the graffiti?'

'Francis told you.'

'Yes.'

Toris muttered something like a prayer. Feliciano's thoughts were jerky, but he faintly remembered all the things that he'd found since coming to America, and Ludwig's blue eyes.

All the things Feliciano didn't quite understand that he'd wished with some deep part of him to be included in-the wall and the promises to change the world and Ludwig, always Ludwig.

'The group-will it give me answers?'

'What answers are you looking for?' Toris asked steadily.

What answers were he looking for? The simplest kind.

'I want to know if I'm who I think I am.'

'We all do,' Toris said. Feliciano waited, the world hanging in the balance. Toris finally sighed.

'I'll call Feliks.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **I'd like to see the new ways the streets align and the people move.**

 ** _:: Old framed pictures that have always hung the same way_**


	15. Chapter 15

**The situations of my characters seem to continually get worse.**

 **0o0o0o**

Gilbert finally came back in the stifling, heavy heat of afternoon, with the tension and the sun pressing down on Ludwig's shoulders, crushing him. His brother didn't say anything as he was silhouetted in the door, wearing a different shirt and holding sheets of music. He had a new necklace with charms on it. Nobody spoke.

Gilbert came in and dropped his backpack on the chair, staring at Vati. He hadn't even looked at Ludwig.

'Go upstairs,' he said.

'No,' Ludwig said, feeling a share of Feliciano's fury last night in his bones. He stood up. 'You just disappear and then you come back and as soon as you do, you tell me to go upstairs so you can argue with Vati again-and Vati knew where you were! You just wouldn't come back, because _I'm not a good enough reason to stay_?'

Gilbert's eyes flicked to him before he rounded on Vati accusingly. 'How much did you tell him? I leave for one night-'

'Why wouldn't you tell me?' Ludwig shouted over him. He's tired of being ignored, achingly tired of all of this in a weariness that cuts down to his bones. He wants to see Feliciano. 'You both always ignore me, but if I'm the only reason Gilbert even bothers to stay here, then I want to-I want to _know_.' The last word is choked off. He hates this. He hates everything, he's helpless here and he can't stand the way the walls seem like they're pressing in, he's _trapped_. 'I thought you'd left forever.'

'I will,' Gilbert said quietly. 'One day, I'm leaving and I'm not coming back. Ludwig, you're free to join me, but right now, _go to your damn room_.'

Ludwig turned and left. The door slammed behind him and he was running, throat choking, vision blurring-

Gilbert is going to leave, he's going to leave him alone and he's scared, he's terrified, he can't _breathe_ where is Feliciano, where is any sort of sense in this world _he can't breathe he can't breathe_.

'Oh my God, Ludwig-' Feliciano opened the door and Ludwig's voice was steady despite the way his chest was crushing in on itself.

'I need to go somewhere.'

'Where? I don't have a car-Ludwig, you're _shaking_ , what happened?'

'Gilbert came back.' Ludwig collapsed into Feliciano's arms, burying his face in Feliciano's neck and finally, releasing the quiet, pitiful sob in his throat. Feliciano pulled him inside and shut the door on the world, letting them crumple onto the floor.

'Gilbert came _back_? What did he do?'

'He's fighting with Vati again.' Ludwig couldn't move. The senselessness of his thoughts was still hammering at his head, but with Feliciano's arms around him, it was better. 'I couldn't stand it, and I-I told Gilbert he should tell me things and I left.'

Feliciano was quiet for a moment, his head a warm, comforting weight on Ludwig's shoulder. 'Where do you need to go?'

'You said you didn't have a car.'

'We can walk to the store down the road, if you want to go get something to eat.'

'Are you sure, Feliciano?' Ludwig asked him, but he was immeasurably grateful. Feliciano half-laughed and held him tighter.

'I'm sure. If it'll make things a little bit better now, I'm sure, and even if Nonno will get angry if he finds out, that doesn't scare me as much anymore. Some things scare me a bit but they also make me feel like flying, and when things like that exist, things must get better,' he promised. 'Somehow. We can change the world, Ludwig.'

'Do you promise that?' Ludwig asked, half-teasingly. Feliciano looked at him, all golden in the late afternoon sun, and Ludwig found he was looking for a real promise.

'I promise,' he said, voice rough around the edges.

0o0o0o

Every step down the road away from his house was a relief taking a bit of the weight off his chest. Feliciano's hand brushed his, and it distracted him from thoughts of what had happened.

'If they- _when_ they fight again, you can come over,' Feliciano said. He gave Ludwig an apologetic look about _when_ , but it was true.

'Thank you,' Ludwig said. Feliciano's hand wound in his, and Ludwig squeezed gratefully. 'Really, Feliciano, thank you.'

'You're welcome. I also forgot to tell you, but the thing Feliks told me about meets tomorrow night. Do you still want to come?'

Ludwig knew his brother and grandfather would disapprove, but he didn't care for once.

'I'd like that,' he said.

'I'd like it, too, I'm a bit scared about it, but it was the good kind of scared, and if you're there, I'm not really scared at all.' Feliciano stopped in front of the store. 'Do you want to get ice cream or a slushie?'

'I'm not into sweets much.' Ludwig didn't want to let go of his hand yet, even though someone at the far end of the sidewalk was looking at them suspiciously.

'I can get you some chips or something,' Feliciano said. Ludwig's face grew hot, and his stomach was full of butterflies.

'You don't need to pay for me, I'll wait until I get home.'

'My treat.' Feliciano giggled and squeezed his hand a final time before letting go.

They both let go when they stepped inside the store. Feliciano looked at him with a sort of apology, but Ludwig already understood in a way he couldn't explain, but he was still glad when they were out.

'You don't need to go back immediately,' Feliciano said as they were walking home.

'Can I stay at your house?'

'Of course!' Feliciano fiddled with the rusty latch of his gate. 'The lock is on the back of the door,' he said. 'In case you ever want to…'

Ludwig understood.

They climbed up the apple tree again. Feliciano leaned back against the trunk and searched for clouds. He'd finished his ice cream.

'You said you talked to Gilbert?' he asked.

'I shouted at him,' Ludwig said. Feliciano closed his eyes for a moment, worry creasing his forehead before he looked up.

'I know you try not to let everyone see if you're hurt,' he said. 'You don't have to tell me if the arguing is bad. I...I think I know. I'm always here if you want, I promise.'

'Thank you.' The words came out as a rasp. He tried again. 'Thank you, Feliciano.'

'Because we're friends.' Feliciano shifted on his branch, confusion flickering over his face for half a second. Ludwig felt a shift of strangeness in his stomach at just the word _friends_. 'Best friends,' Feliciano tried again, which was better.

'Best friends,' Ludwig repeated, and Feliciano smiled like the sun after rain and Ludwig _stared_ because he couldn't help it, and Feliciano went still for a moment before he leaned closer and told him, hands shaking with what was not fear, voice rasping with fearful exhilaration, _ti amo_ -and Ludwig's heart was _his_.

'You said you'd tell me what that meant,' he whispered. Feliciano didn't move away, and so their sides were pressed together on the branch. He shook his head, cheeks flaming. 'You have to tell me eventually.'

'I will,' Feliciano said.

'For my birthday, I'm going to wish for you to tell me what _ti amo_ means,' Ludwig said half-seriously. Feliciano's heart sped up underneath his hand.

'Okay.'

'Really?'

'I'll tell you what it means on your birthday, but first, tell me everything about your birthday. When is it?'

'October third,' Ludwig said, and put the matter of _ti amo_ away in favour of Feliciano's excitement.

0o0o0o

When Ludwig finally went back inside far after supper, Gilbert was upstairs and Vati was reading again. Nobody mentioned him leaving, and with a guilty sort of relief, he went upstairs and fell asleep and dreamed of Feliciano and _ti amo_ , and almost understood it all.

Gilbert didn't look like anything had happened when he went downstairs save for the new necklace he was fiddling with the bird charm of.

'Ready?' he asked. Nothing about him betrayed the events of yesterday, and Ludwig couldn't bring himself to talk about them.

Classes passed normally, and Ludwig kept waiting for something to happen, for Gilbert to acknowledge that they'd both left. Ludwig didn't know what he'd expected, and his head was more full of anticipation than real worry until Gilbert stopped them while walking home.

The first time Ludwig had seen Gilbert fight was in Berlin. Someone had yelled at them from across the street, and Gilbert bent down, told Ludwig not to get involved, handed him his textbooks, and went home with a bloody cut down his face and a wild grin.

Ludwig had gotten better at dressing his brother's split knuckles over the years, but every single time he was terrified that one day, Gilbert would lose a fight. When they moved to America, he thought that was over. Everything that had happened back in Europe was over, but they were crouching behind a building watching the seniors, and he could feel Gilbert's body tensing beside him in the way that meant he hadn't tried to leave his fights back in Europe. Of course he hadn't. He hadn't left the arguing, either. Ludwig felt like the only person who had wanted to try again, when that couldn't be true.

'Please leave,' Kiku said again. His hands were white-knuckled on the strap of his bag. Ludwig liked sitting together with him at lunch, when Gilbert had disappeared, and knew he hated playing the sports after classes.

'Don't be a sissy,' one of the seniors jeered. 'Come on, where are you going? Play a game with us.'

'I'm going home,' Kiku said firmly, but Ludwig saw his hands shaking. 'Please leave.'

'Gilbert,' Ludwig whispered, torn. He didn't want Gilbert to do what he normally did, which was think only after someone had been bloodied, but he didn't want them to hurt Kiku.

'I know, baby brother,' Gilbert murmured. His scarlet eyes were gleaming with a kind of battle lust, and he was baring his teeth in the kind of smile he wore when talking to the Red Army officers. 'Leave it all to me.'

'Don't hurt them,' Ludwig pleaded desperately. He didn't want to see Gilbert fight ever again. 'Promise me you won't-won't start it. That you won't seriously hurt them.'

Gilbert gave him a look, strange and curious. 'They want to hurt me.'

'Promise me you won't,' Ludwig pushed. Gilbert laughed, ruffled his hair, and opened his mouth to agree, but the seniors had started again, and his head snapped up like a dog with a taste of blood.

'What are you, a fucking _queer_ -'

The word burned like acid in his stomach.

Gilbert shoved him back behind the building and Ludwig barely stopped himself from gasping in pain as the brick cut into his hands.

'Gentlemen, I thought I just heard you call my friend here something that wasn't so nice,' Gilbert said, strolling in front of Kiku. Ludwig saw his hand move towards the slit in his jacket he kept his pocketknife in, and silently pleaded for his brother not to use it.

'We were just being friendly,' one of them said. He did the look up and down, sizing his brother up, and smiled in the way that Ludwig recognized. People didn't know Gilbert didn't look half as strong as he was, but they both did.

It was two against one, and Gilbert would lose, Ludwig would lose him again, and they'd find him here, they'd demand to know everything, if he was _like that_ , but he's _not_ -

-Feliciano, his laugh, his smile, and the way his voice bent around the words _sei bello_ and Ludwig was terrified.

Gilbert grinned back.

'Real friendly, I'm sure, unless someone says quite clearly they don't want to play a game.'

'We're _real friendly_ unless he's one of _those_ ,' the first senior said. 'We ain't too friendly to _queers_.' Ludwig was the only one who caught the way his brother's muscles tightened and he shifted his body, or the flash of rage in his eyes.

Ludwig remembered, suddenly, the sermons Gilbert had spoken over, the ways he argued, but his brother wasn't _like_ that, his brother couldn't be-

'Queer,' Gilbert said, tone light, easy, 'or not, I think you should clear out.'

'You protecting him?' the second one asked. 'Bet you've got something going with him, haven't you, Beilschmidt? You a fucking queer, too?'

Gilbert considers this a moment, nodding his head in mock indecision, and punches the first senior in the jaw.

'Oh, you've got it coming now,' he said once he'd stood back up, testing the tenderness of his jaw. His lip was split and there was blood running out of his mouth. He talked like he'd bitten his tongue.

'Have I?' Gilbert asked. He turned and punched the second senior, who doubled over with a high groan. Gilbert caught the first's sloppy punch and sent him sprawling next to his friend.

'We'll tell everyone,' the second threatened, still clutching his stomach. 'They'll throw you out, you'll never get a job here-'

'I'm not staying in this city,' Gilbert said. 'But even so, you won't tell _anyone_. And don't even think of going after my baby brother. You think this is bad?' He punctuated the question with a solid kick, and the first senior howled in pain. 'Go on, answer me. If you think this is bad, you should see the first guy who threatened Ludwig.' He bent down, boot still pressing into the senior's back. 'Do I have your word, gentlemen?'

They managed their promises, and Gilbert finally let them go. His eyes still gleamed for a second more, watching them stumble off, like he wanted to chase them down.

'They didn't get you?' he asked Kiku, still watching them go. Kiku shook his head, plainly terrified, and stammered his gratitude. 'Get home as fast as you can,' he said, and Kiku ran off. Gilbert was motionless, and suddenly swore, turned, and rushed back towards Ludwig.

Blood trickled from his palms. He'd been gripping the brick so hard it had broken skin. Nothing made sense. The fights were supposed to stay back in Berlin, Gilbert being like _that_ was-was _wrong_ -

 _He_ wasn't supposed to be thinking of Feliciano, the way his body felt leaning against his.

Gilbert swore again, coaxing his hands to release the brick. Ludwig was numb

'Shit…' Gilbert tried to wipe the blood off. Ludwig's muscles were locked tight, he couldn't _breathe_. 'Ludwig-oh, _shit_. You gotta talk to me, baby brother, I promise I'm sorry, but I couldn't let them talk like that-'

'You said you wouldn't start it,' Ludwig said. His fear was turning into helpless anger, but he couldn't pull away. 'You could have just told them to leave.'

'I did.' Gilbert patted his pockets for bandages, and Ludwig saw the flash of his knife, thankfully still sheathed, in the flat of his palm.

'You-you almost-' He finally managed to shove Gilbert away. 'You almost pulled your knife! You could have killed them!'

'I didn't, I swear I wouldn't have,' Gilbert promised desperately. 'Baby brother, I need you to stop moving or you'll make your hands worse, _please-'_

'You promised you wouldn't use your knife,' he said, and Gilbert wouldn't meet his eyes. If Gilbert had used it, he could be accused on real charges, and they'd have to leave again if Gilbert didn't want to end up in jail.

'Those kinds of people would kill me,' he whispered like a shameful secret, and the fight left Ludwig, the useless, helpless fight. He couldn't do anything about his brother. He couldn't do anything, and it's easier just to hold his hands out and let Gilbert mop the blood off. 'We'll have to go home for better,' he said gently.

'From Vati?' Ludwig asked dully.

'No. He'd kill me.' Gilbert paused. 'Feli will understand.'

'No!' Ludwig grabbed his arm and his hands burned in protest, but he didn't let go. Gilbert tried to make him stop, hissing quietly that he'd make it bleed again. 'No, we can't tell him.'

'Why not?'

'Because-because I don't want him to know.' Ludwig couldn't explain to Gilbert that if Feliciano found out more abou them, whatever they had would change, and Ludwig desperately, desperately didn't want whatever fragile, wonderful thing they had to change, especially before tomorrow.

'You don't want him to know about what happens in our family?' Gilbert made him let go now that his frantic strength was gone. Ludwig couldn't even protest. Gilbert laughed. 'I'd be ashamed too if my brother was this much of a bastard, but you're a good kid, aren't you? You're going to have a good life, Ludwig.' Gilbert embraced him quickly and let go too fast. 'Promise me you won't go the same way as me.'

'I promise.'

'Good man.' Gilbert ruffled his hair. 'If it doesn't hurt too much, put on these gloves. They'll stop anyone from noticing until we get down to Antonio's.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **Much of this story was built for a specific scene.**

 ** _:: Falling asleep and waking up when the sky is hazy and the time is ambiguous_**


	16. Chapter 16

**My apologies for timing being off.**

 **0o0o0o**

For once, Ludwig prayed that Feliciano wouldn't see him as they walked by. Gilbert kept taking furtive glances at their house with the barely glowing windows and tried to quiet the engine even more, but Vati didn't look outside.

Antonio opened the door. His face slid past shock, horror, and fear before it landed on accusation.

'You're home alone?' Gilbert asked. Antonio nodded once, sharply, and Gilbert held up a hand to stop the rest. 'Can we discuss this inside?'

Antonio slammed the door behind them. Ludwig flinched. He had never seen Antonio so angry before, and the pure fury that crossed his face when Ludwig pulled off his gloves made Ludwig drop his gaze.

Gilbert drew the curtains and turned to explain, but Antonio cut him off.

'Gilbert, you son of a- _you brought Ludwig into your fight?_ ' He stalked forward with the first aid kit, trembling with anger, and pointed Ludwig into a seat to begin cleaning his hands.

'No, Antonio, let me _explain_ -'

'Why are his hands bloody, then?' Antonio's touch as he wrapped the bandages was experienced and barely shaking, but his eyes blazed.

'He was watching, and scraped his hands on the bricks-I wouldn't have brought him into it, you know I wouldn't have.'

Antonio briefly met eyes with him, silently asking if it was true. Ludwig nodded as imperceptibly as he could, and Antonio's shoulders sagged in relief for a second before his rage came back.

'No, I don't know, not anymore. You aren't supposed to be fighting anymore. You told me you'd gotten better, and-' His face contorted. 'I hear you left! Gilbert, you _left_ him.'

'I can't so much as breathe in that place, you know I can't,' Gilbert said, but Antonio's words had hit him hard. Ludwig could see the broken set of his shoulders.

'That's not an excuse!'

'I know it isn't.'

'But you did it anyways,' Antonio said disgustedly. He nudged Ludwig off the chair and motioned for Gilbert to sit down. He didn't. The time had let his injuries swell, giving his ghostly skin horribly visible bruises. His knuckles were bleeding, and as he clenched his hands, they dripped crimson over the kitchen tile.

'I wasn't thinking,' Gilbert said softly, pleadingly. 'I couldn't think. Antonio, if you'd been there, you'd understand-about the fight, I _had_ to, they were calling this kid a-a queer.' His voice trembled on the last word.

Antonio's mouth twitched into a snarl. 'Even if they did, you shouldn't have done that.'

'So I'm just supposed to let them do that?' Gilbert demanded furiously, slamming his hand on the counter. It left a red imprint of his palm. 'Just let them talk, when they don't _know_ -'

'Yes!' Antonio stood, rounding on him. 'Yes! That's what we have to _do_. You realize you just outed yourself to-'

'Not in front of Ludwig,' Gilbert growled. He sent Ludwig a look. 'Go home and tell Vati I'll be a while.'

'No,' Ludwig protested.

'Listen to me, Ludwig,' Gilbert began, but Ludwig turned to Antonio, and the terrified words were out before he could regret them, in a desperate bid to stay and understand.

'Gilbert almost pulled his knife on them.'

Gilbert went paler, then flushed. Antonio was stock-still. Ludwig wanted to take back his words.

Gilbert turned jerkily. 'Antonio, I didn't really-'

'Did you?'

'It was two of them against me, I had to have some kind of protection, what if they went after Ludwig?'

'Gilbert, did you use your knife?'

Gilbert stopped. He looked smaller. 'I had it in my palm.'

'Gilbert, you-' Antonio seemed lost for words. 'You promised me you threw that away.'

'Antonio, I couldn't. I did, but I had to get it back. I have to protect Ludwig.'

'You call this protecting?' Antonio's voice was a harsh growl. 'You call dragging your little brother into a fight _protecting_ him?'

'He wasn't in the fight!'

'You aren't protecting him, Gilbert.'

His brother's face tightened. 'Ludwig, go home.'

'No!'

'I said, go _home_.' This time, Antonio didn't protest, and Ludwig stormed out.

He stayed behind the door and listened. Through the crack, he saw flashes of pale and dark, pacing around the kitchen and arguing. His brother was a sharp white blur, full of more crimson than normal, working himself into a rage around Antonio's furious dark.

'You can't keep doing this, Gilbert,' Antonio said. Gilbert laughed, loud and sharp-edged.

'I can't let them talk like that.'

'You have to. You can't run away from this, you can't fight anymore. You promised me, promised us both you'd protect him, and I don't care if you break every other promise to us so long as you keep that. Don't do that to him. Don't you dare run away.'

'That was a mistake, I was stupid and I won't do it again. Please. I'm sorry. Antonio, I really am trying.'

'I know.' Antonio sounded exhausted. 'I'm trying, too, but sometimes you just have to keep your head down and pretend you didn't hear anything.'

'I can't do that.'

'Yes, you can,' Antonio said humourlessly. 'For Ludwig.'

'He'll understand when I fight.'

'That's the point! He knows! He shouldn't have to know. You aren't taking care of him, and so he knows you fight people for words and-you haven't even told him about Roderich yet, have you?'

'He's too young,' Gilbert said frustratedly.

'He is not,' Antonio insisted. 'He understands that more than you realize. He understands a lot more than you give him credit for, because you haven't been doing what you should.'

'I've been-'

'Arguing with your grandfather,' Antonio finished. 'And he's messed up from it. Can't you see that, Gilbert? _You haven't been taking care of him_. Go home and look him in the eyes and tell _him_ you're doing your best. Tell him you're busy arguing with your grandfather. Tell him you've been taking care.'

The whirling flashes went still, and the pale dropped onto the table, laying his hands out to be wrapped.

'I can't,' Gilbert said, softly, a broken note to his voice. Antonio gently cleaned him off. Gilbert didn't so much as hiss at the sting.

'I know you can't. But you can fix that.'

'I haven't got long, I'm almost eighteen. And that-what about when I leave?' Antonio wrapped an arm around Gilbert's shoulders, crumpled at the table. 'He's a good kid, he'll have a good life. I'm not worried about that, I'm worried that he won't know what to do with himself after I'm gone.' Softer, then. 'What if he wants to come with me? What if he doesn't?'

'He won't leave,' Antonio said, so confidently that both Gilbert and Ludwig leaned in to know why.

'He misses Europe, I know he does. Why wouldn't he come with me?'

Antonio laughed wearily.

'Can't you see the way he looks at Feliciano?'

With those words, Ludwig stumbled back and fell, his heart pounding in a strange rhythm. He pushed himself up and started running, the words beating at his head. They should make him terrified, furious at their implication, but Ludwig could only feel the eddies of confused, incredible _happiness_ that came every time Feliciano smiled.

 _Can't you see the way he looks at Feliciano?_

He'd seen the ways boys were treated if they looked at other boys that way. If he was like that, he'd have to hide it, he'd have to stop-

He couldn't be like that. Feliciano said it himself that they were best friends, nothing more. Loving boys was wrong-but this was right, because they were _friends_. It was fine. Nothing that felt this right could be condemned by the preacher.

The purr of the car echoed behind him and Ludwig found himself struggling with the rusty latch and-he couldn't climb, he would fall, but he needed to talk to Feliciano. Feliciano could explain all this, the hot-cold feeling, the way his heart did acrobatics, he'd explain it in his perfect way that made sense because Feliciano understood him. They understood each other.

Ludwig grabbed the edges of the roof and told himself he would not fall, tried to imagine Feliciano's voice coaxing him through it, but that just made him breathless. He dug his fingers in and did not look down.

Finally, he was standing on the roof. Dizzy, he knocked on the window. Feliciano opened it, and his face was a kaleidoscope of shock and confusion and admiration. He took Ludwig's hand, obviously working for the right thing to say. Ludwig let himself smile, because it was nice to surprise Feliciano.

'You climbed up?' he asked finally, an amazed smile spreading over his face.

'I did.' Ludwig faintly realized his palms were bleeding again, but for a moment, he didn't care. 'Can I come in?'

They sat on Feliciano's bed and for a second, the entire concept of what Ludwig had just done hit him, the terror and the arguing and what he had heard.

'Ludwig, I…' Feliciano grinned at him again, his exuberance filling the cold fear until Ludwig was able to think again. 'That was amazing! I mean, I'm just working on painting-' He stopped suddenly and threw a newspaper over a painting that Ludwig thought might have been of him. '-and I hear a knock, and I think it might be Gilbird, that canary, but it's _you_ , and _sei bello_ , and-Ludwig, you're bleeding.'

'I'm fine.' Ludwig stuck the edges back onto his bandages. 'Gilbert is back.'

'I heard,' Feliciano said, and by his wince, Ludwig guessed he meant the argument.

'He got into a fistfight.'

'What? Why?'

'Someone called Kiku a…' The word felt ugly in his mouth. 'A queer.'

Feliciano flinched. Ludwig reached out gently, and brushed his hair from his eyes. 'Sorry.'

'Don't be.' Ludwig tucked his hair back behind his ears, aching all over again to draw and to _protect_ him from wherever, whoever said that. 'Where did you hear it?'

'School,' Feliciano said almost inaudibly. 'It means the same thing as-as fag, right?'

Ludwig nodded. Feliciano was shivering, even though the temperature was barely dipping. Ludwig got up and shut the window, and wrapped a blanket around them both.

'Do you want to stay the night?' Feliciano asked. 'I mean, if Nonno and Vati agree, because I don't want you to get in trouble, not when Gilbert is…'

'I'd like that,' Ludwig said simply. His worries about feelings were hovering at the edges of his fingers, waiting to be asked, but warm and away from a world where ugly words were used, it didn't seem as important, because everything was right.

0o0o0o

Vati hadn't been home yet, and so Ludwig had put a note on the door telling him where he'd be.

Feliciano's house was so quiet after dark. Ludwig couldn't figure out why he couldn't sleep until he realized that there was no muffled accusations in the background.

He sat up, and the bed next to his sleeping bag rustled slightly. Ludwig smiled.

'You're still awake?'

An embarrassed silence, and then Feliciano pulled his blankets off, revealing a sketchbook and flashlight. 'You changed positions,' he said.

'Should I go back?'

'No, I outlined it, and I know you well enough to do the rest.' Feliciano showed him the drawing, and Ludwig was struck by the detail. Feliciano put it away, and through the faint moonlight, Ludwig could make out the faint red on his cheeks.

'I don't know why you're embarrassed. You're an incredible artist.'

'I know, but drawing you is...missing something. I can't draw your eyes black and white,' he said. 'Do you want to come sit with me?'

It was too cold to sit, and so they pulled the blankets over themselves. For the first time, curled up in bed, Ludwig realized how much taller he was than Feliciano. It seemed he noticed, too, because when they were this close, chests pressed together, Ludwig had to crane his neck to look at him.

'When did you get so tall?' Feliciano asked, but his flashing smile was a bit breathless.

'I'm not sure.' Ludwig hesitated and wrapped an arm around him, ready for Feliciano to stiffen and pull away, but he didn't. He shifted closer and laid his head on Ludwig's chest, gazing up at him through thick lashes. Ludwig was afraid Feliciano could hear every confused, _ecstatic_ misstep of his heart, and his body was alight, floating, aware of every second.

'Feliciano,' he began, voice cracking. Feliciano didn't so much as smile about it, just nodded for him to continue. 'Do you think I look at you strangely? Differently than everyone else?'

'Yes,' Feliciano said immediately. 'But I look at you the same way. Differently than everyone else, because you are different, you're... _wunderschönen_.'

His pronunciation was technically wrong, too Romantic, but Ludwig thought it was perfect.

' _Sei bello_ ,' he said, knowing he had the wrong accent for it. Feliciano smiled and wrapped his arms around him.

'It's not a bad thing to look at people like that, right?' he asked.

'It can't be.'

'That's what I thought,' Feliciano said. 'It feels right, like painting is right, maybe even more, because I paint to try to express the rightness and I can't come close.' He fell silent, thinking of his paintings for a moment. 'You understand it, though. The way it feels, like flying, and that is enough, that is more than enough, even if I have to spend the rest of my life perfecting art to let other people feel for a second how right it is. I would do it.'

'I don't have talents like you,' Ludwig said. 'But I understand it. I understand you.'

Feliciano looked up at him, the moonlight silvering his hair and skin and eyes.

'How do you say 'goodnight' in German?' he asked.

'Guten nacht,' he said.

'In Italian, it's 'buona notte'.' Feliciano leaned against him, his breathing coming slower. 'Ti amo, Ludwig.'

Ludwig had a sudden, gloriously _right_ impulse to do something before it slipped from him and he was left confused, and even though he was satisfied with the answers to his previous questions, ones he didn't know how to express were itching to be spoken.

But for now, Ludwig listened to the quiet and fell asleep with Feliciano in his arms.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I hope I do not miscount again.**

 ** _:: The hum of warmth at night_**


	17. Chapter 17

**I would like to hear period ideas on old places.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano woke up first. The world was silent and mist clung to the windows, but it was quickly being burned away by the sun.

Ludwig looked even younger when he was asleep. The crease between his eyes was gone and his hair was loose. Feliciano knew he shouldn't stare, but he really was beautiful. The only flaw was that his blue-as-the-sky eyes were more shadowed now, from the weight of arguments. Feliciano hated it.

He slowly pulled out his sketchbook, careful that it didn't rustle against his blankets, and began to draw the pliant lines of Ludwig's shoulders, and the bend to his neck, and it was only when he looked up to study the way shade fell over his brow that Feliciano noticed the angles of his face were different.

He'd drawn Ludwig before. He'd painted him smiling and laughing and thinking, blue eyes bright, and the curious, hesitant, _alight_ way Ludwig always looked at him, and he had the planes of how he fell together memorized. Or he had, until he realized they were changing.

Feliciano put down his sketchbook and leaned closer, a strange kind of entrancement making his whole body hum. He was a bit sharper and clean-cut, more like his brother, but not to his extremes. Ludwig had a definite gentleness to his strength that Gilbert's wildness did not for lack of care.

Feliciano wondered what he looked like. Lovino had what his nonno called _classic_ angles, like a Roman statue. Feliciano had tried to find his own profile in the mirror and decided to wait until he was older.

Ludwig would be wonderful as a carving, Feliciano thought. He wished he had a better talent with a chisel, because sometimes his paintings didn't capture the perfect symmetry of him, the way he moved, with no unnecessary step-Ludwig was a work of art unto himself in a way Feliciano didn't know how to explain to him. Maybe if he secretly got better, he could eventually ask him to model.

Feliciano couldn't remember a time where he'd been allowed to stare at him for so long, and it was a guilty, exciting thing. His eyes drifted down to Ludwig's shoulders, and the lines of muscles standing out on his arms.

His stomach did a funny thing, like it had in the basement of the church, but tenfold, because the nervous excitement was heightening all his emotions, and this was _Ludwig_ , who had beautiful blue eyes, and Feliciano wanted to do something stupid and wonderful and _right_ like all his feelings and very nearly did.

He pulled away, heart pounding, thoughts confusing him. He wanted to do something, but he felt like that would cross their lines, whatever those were now that they felt so blurred. Whatever it had been, it was more dangerous and felt even more _right_ than _ti amo_.

Feliciano had been thinking about his promise to tell what it meant. He had assured himself that it was fine, because they were friends, and he couldn't stop himself from saying it. But now, staring at Ludwig, he wasn't so sure of anything except that he couldn't stop himself from speaking.

At that moment, Ludwig stirred, blue eyes catching the morning sunlight, and Feliciano's heart jumped and he kicked his sketchbook underneath the covers before Ludwig saw it.

'Feliciano,' Ludwig mumbled, but he looked _happy_ , gloriously and unabashedly happy like he hadn't for weeks, and Feliciano laughed even though his voice broke and threw his arms around him.

'Buongiorno!'

Ludwig's surprised arms came up to make sure they didn't fall off the bed, and they laid there, staring at each other, delighted and nervous and happy.

Ludwig chuckled as he figured it out, still half-asleep, and his smile made Feliciano's world bright. 'Guten tag.'

'You're-' Feliciano couldn't say _happier than I've seen you in days_ , because he didn't want to talk about Gilbert and the arguments, and he wanted this moment, with Ludwig's heart beating against his. 'You're awake. Did you sleep well? Do you want to eat breakfast? Nonno won't mind cooking more.'

'I slept well. And breakfast sounds good, if your grandfather doesn't mind.' Ludwig let him go, but his hands lingered to fix his hair. His brow creased as he did, but it was different, a problem-solving look instead of a worried look, and it looked much better on him. That's what Ludwig liked to do, Feliciano had found-he fixed the world to make it better and fixed Feliciano's strange thoughts into something better.

'Okay. And Ludwig, I'm glad you're here.' Feliciano smiled again, and Ludwig's eyes lit up in the shy, delighted way they always did.

0o0o0o

Ludwig winced when he picked up his utensils at the table, and Feliciano remembered with a start about his hands. He'd been so distracted yesterday he'd forgotten, and berated himself.

'We have to change your bandages,' he insisted, pulling him towards the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. 'Lovi? Can you come show me which one is the antibiotic?'

Lovino, who had just come in, swore and rushed over. Nonno turned with a frown, but when he saw his bandages, he dropped his spatula and followed.

'What happened?' Lovino asked. There were warring emotions on his face that Feliciano had been seeing more of-like he thought he was making a bad decision with Ludwig, but right now, his face was twisted in furious concern. 'Feliciano, what happened to him?'

Feliciano looked desperately at Ludwig to explain. He didn't look at anyone.

'I fell,' he said. 'Yesterday. After school.'

Feliciano opened his mouth to protest, but Ludwig minutely shook his head.

'Fine.' Lovino nudged them both towards the bathroom. 'Nonno, the toast is burning. I'll handle them.'

Feliciano followed. Lovino closed the door harder than necessary and rounded on them both.

'I understand why you'd lie to Roma,' he said. 'But tell Feli the truth.'

'You-?' Feliciano started.

'Antonio told me everything.' Lovino briskly started rewrapping his bandages. 'Gilbert...your brother is waiting. At home.'

'I told him,' Ludwig said quietly. 'About the fistfight. Feliciano, I didn't get into it.'

Relief rushed through him. 'Oh, good, because even though you're really strong, I don't want you to get into any fights, because you could get seriously hurt and do you know how much health care costs here?'

'A lot,' Lovino said tightly. 'I know. Feliciano, hand me the cough medicine.'

'It's almost empty,' Feliciano said in surprise. 'Do you have a cold?'

'No.' Lovino grabbed it back by himself and shoved it back with enough force to make a few bottles fall over. He swore again and threw them back in, but Feliciano saw that they were all the same cough syrup.

0o0o0o

All through the day, Gilbert acted better. Ludwig saw him keep his head down around people he hated, around words he hated, even though he grinned sharp and satisfied when the seniors came in with black eyes and bandaged split lips and wore his bruises like trophies. He'd even gave Ludwig a pair of thin gloves to hide his scraped and stinging palms.

It made him feel worse for planning to go to the place Feliciano had talked about. He found himself on the verge of telling Gilbert half a dozen times, but the words never formed the right explanation. Ludwig felt like he was leaving, even though it was _fair_.

The worst part was that he wanted to go to the place. It held a strange pull for him, and so he told Gilbert he had a project to do at school, promised him he would get home, watched him leave, and started walking.

Feliciano and an older boy with long blond hair caught up to him near the art shop. Feliciano was flushed and beaming, and the sight of him made Ludwig's insides untwist slightly.

'I'm scared,' Feliciano whispered. 'But I'm also excited. I'm really excited, because this is-this feels _important_. This feels like something real. Does that make sense?'

'Of course,' Ludwig said. He understood what he meant about the raw, authentic feeling of this, and the potential to understand this side of the world. Feliciano laughed and took his hand.

'This is Feliks, by the way, he's really nice. Toris-he's waiting at the place-has a car, he'll get us home early.'

Ludwig looked at him and missed a step. Feliks' face was swollen green and yellow, like a violent flower. He grinned, but it looked pained, and rippled his fingers.

'I'm Feliks,' he said. Ludwig could hear his uncertainty underneath the pained rasp of his voice as his eyes lingered on Ludwig's hair and eyes-the places he matched Gilbert.

Feliciano caught his eye, worry reflecting in his face. He mouthed _tell you later_. They kept walking in the evening light, with the edge of a cooler wind biting at the edges of their coats and Feliciano's cap.

0o0o0o

The group was darker and more colourful than Ludwig had expected, full to bursting of people moving and laughing and twisting together on the floor. The lights only provided glimpses of bright hair, bright clothes, and bright, fierce smiles.

'Whoa,' Feliciano said. Feliks stepped forward to take someone's hand with shoulder-length brown hair and kind, sad eyes. His entire demeanor changed in an instant. The bruises seemed to fade, and he held himself like Gilbert did with wounds-like they made him a warrior.

'Hey, Toris,' he said. Toris smiled at him before his attention shifted to Feliciano before fixing on Ludwig. His eyes weighed on him the same way Feliks' had.

'You brought…?'

'Feliciano wanted to,' Feliks told him but glanced back. His eyes betrayed the confidence in his voice before he abruptly turned and shouted to the group to come in.

Feliciano squeezed his hand as they sat down. He couldn't make out faces well in the shifting lights, but his golden eyes were the same as always.

'Alright, alright.' Feliks waved to the crowd, the tension vanished from his shoulders. 'Like, don't look at me like that, Emma.' He gestured at his face, but it was a proud, wide show. 'Ivan caught me. Who wants to share today?'

The energy here was different. Ludwig saw people leaning against one another, whispering, laughing like he never saw on the street. Something about this place was charged, like Feliciano was, and he wanted to be part of it.

'I'm sure you know who I am,' a voice came from beside whoever Emma was, and Ludwig saw long brown hair and realized with a jolt that it was Elizabeta. 'Elizabeta Héderváry, female. I heard my friend got into a fight.'

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

'It's definitely, like, the elephant in the room,' Feliks agreed. 'Yeah, let's skip the introduction tonight and get on with it. Raise your hand if you don't know what happened yesterday.'

Nobody raised their hand. Ludwig felt vaguely sick.

'He was at school today,' someone called from the back, with a cross-shaped hair pin. 'His bruises really showed.'

'Did you see the guys he went after, though?' The boy next to the speaker elbowed him, grinning, and imitated a falsetto. 'Hey, dude? What happened to your face?' He dropped his voice comically deep. 'Made the mistake of fighting the white knight, can't you see?' He and the people around him laughed and he held up a hand to high-five his friend, who reluctantly did so. He beamed.

'His methods aren't the cleanest, but he's a revolutionary,' Toris said, suppressed admiration shining through in his voice.

'Gilbert Beilschmidt is a damn hero!' the second speaker shouted, garnering cheers. Even Feliks looked impressed.

'Shame he can't come anymore,' the boy with the hair clip said, which silenced the cheers.

'They're…' Ludwig couldn't make sense of anything.

'Gilbert used to come here,' Feliciano said excitedly. 'And people here know him. Does he fight a lot?'

'I only ever see the aftermath,' Ludwig said, but a small ember of admiration was settling inside of him for this side of his brother. He was starting to realize how little he really knew of Gilbert.

 **0o0o0o**

 **How were certain places viewed?**

 ** _:: Quotes heard in passing written down on skin_**


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm trying to get the characters to realize.**

 **0o0o0o**

The introductions continued, but people were starting to move, and Feliciano was practically buzzing with excitement. This place had an energy that made him feel like he could live forever just on the way people here _looked_ at each other, unabashed and proud. He wanted to look at Ludwig like that all the time, but Francis' warning was constantly hovering at the edge of his feelings, and it was safer to look at Ludwig like they were only friends. The kind of way Feliciano loved looking at him was only for when they were alone.

But here, in the dark press of bright bodies and bright lights, Feliciano took a deep breath, pushed off all his worries, and smiled. Ludwig smiled back, and Feliciano's heart was beating so fast he thought he might faint.

'Let's go talk to the guy who knows Gilbert,' he said, pulling Ludwig to his feet. 'He can tell us-tell us things. Maybe he knows what happens at the music hall, or-'

'Or why Gilbert keeps fighting.'

'That too,' Feliciano agreed.

The boy with the cross pin looked up when they came closer, and when he saw Ludwig, surprise flashed across his face before he schooled it back to neutrality. Feliciano had seen the way people looked at Ludwig-first Feliks, then Toris-and he surreptitiously stepped closer to him. The boy's eyebrows raised in surprise, or acknowledgement. Feliciano inclined his head, just barely, thinking he understood.

The boy elbowed his friend to make him turn. His friend had wild, gelled hair and blue eyes. Feliciano couldn't help thinking that the shade was closer to the sky before evening, rather than midday. He, at least, had no suspicions over Ludwig looking like Gilbert. If he did, he didn't show them.

'Hey!' He grabbed both their free hands and shook enthusiastically. 'I saw Feliks bring you in, he's got good judgement. Usually. My name's Mathias.'

'I'm Feliciano.'

'I'm…' He glanced over, and Feliciano squeezed his hand. 'Ludwig.'

Now was the moment the realization crossed Mathias' face. 'Hold on-'

'My name is Lukas,' the boy with the cross pin interrupted. Mathias sat back, studying them both.

'So, you want to know about the fight?' Mathias said slowly, cautiously, like he was continuing a previous conversation. Feliciano nodded.

'I won't tell you what it was like. I wasn't there, obviously. Nobody who was in it got out unscathed, if you listen to what they're saying, and so I won't spread rumours.' He snorted. Ludwig stiffened next to him, but kept quiet. 'The problem is that Gilbert can't keep out of a fight. He hears someone, and he jumps in without thinking that he could get hurt. We all did, once-even Lukas did-but we grew out of it. He hasn't. It'll take a pretty good knock to get Gilbert out. I'm afraid of how big.'

'So Ant-so people are right that we...that it's better to keep your head down?' Ludwig asked.

'In the long run, yeah. Especially if you plan on staying here. Gilbert's got the whole city with a grudge against him. Lucky he's moving back to Europe, or so he says.'

'Can people do that? Leave their family?' Ludwig challenged. Mathias stared him down, chewing on his lip. His eyes were shadowed.

'Sometimes you have to,' he said. 'If you can, I mean. Gilbert's the anomaly. He always is. He's the one who keeps fighting, he's the one going back to Europe, he's the one who runs away and _comes back_. But...I think I understand that now, at least. Coming back.'

They're all quiet for a moment. Feliciano saw between the colourful flashes of light, Mathias' thumb rubbing the back of Lukas' hand, and the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other. He is suddenly aware of the way he leans towards Ludwig, but even in this charged and free space, the fluttering in his stomach is both terrifying and amazing at once and he stopped. Ludwig jerked as well, like he was leaning too, and the fluttering almost knocked Feliciano off his feet.

'What are some things you like to do here?' Feliciano asked at a stab at conversation, tearing his eyes away.

'He drinks, I smoke,' Lukas said. 'He also talks to everyone here, which is what you should do. Particularly the guy over there, with the curls, if he's not...busy. He can explain what you want to know.' His eyes flicked over them both and softened slightly. 'Good luck.'

They leave. Feliciano was almost glad they did because he was so unsure and raw and confused, but in a good way, about all his feelings, and Mathias and Lukas looked like they knew what and who they were, especially to each other, and that-that is where Feliciano's feelings are most tangled up. Who he is to Ludwig, or who he wants to be to him.

'Hey, Ludwig,' he said.

'Yes?' Oh, and the way Ludwig always _looked_ at him, and the way he looks, too, with his blue eyes questioning and piercing and trusting. He's beautiful.

'We're…' Feliciano dimly noticed they'd slowed in the middle of the crush of bodies, and that music was booming through the air, and that both his hands were twined with Ludwig's and that they were close. He had to look up, and those blue eyes took his breath away. 'We're friends, right?'

'Of course!' Ludwig looked surprised he even asked. 'We promised. Always.'

'Always,' Feliciano agreed. His strange urge to do something that would make the small distance between them even less from the morning flashed through him again. 'About Gilbert-I think, no, I _know_ he's trying. To be better. And I know you're trying, too, and that his ideas of how to protect you might be wrong about what to protect you from or how, and that you don't like that, and that sometimes he doesn't listen, but I know you're _trying_ and you're _amazing_ for that and for everything else and Ludwig, I…'

Feliciano is a _mess_ right now. Everything is bright and incredible with sound except here, where there is not enough air but he was floating and faraway except he's also very sharply _here_ , where their chests are almost pressed together and he didn't know what he's _saying_ anymore, but he really just wanted to-

Feliciano wanted to kiss him.

He wanted to kiss him more than he wanted to keep breathing the too-thin air. The realization shuddered through him down to his bones and filled him with its rightness, making the entire world look right, making him understand what had been missing from all his feelings, and he very nearly leaned in right then.

' _Sei bello_ ,' he said shakily instead of kissing him, and Ludwig smiled.

' _Du bist wunderschön_ , Feliciano.'

Feliciano let go of one of his hands and tugged him towards the man with curls before he could go ahead and lean in. He regretted doing it, but he had to.

A lot of people were tall, and it was hard to see, but when they finally saw the man, Feliciano stopped, hot, irrational fear flooding him. It was Antonio, and even though Antonio was good, and Lovino really liked him, he would recognize them.

Ludwig gave him a worried look. Feliciano tried to think of anything like a plan, and the quiet strength of Ludwig's hand was not helping his thoughts from wandering to what it would _feel_ like to-

'It's okay, Feliciano, Antonio won't be strange about us being here,' Ludwig said, thankfully mistaking why Feliciano was so red.

'Still, I don't know if he should know we're here. This is-is kind of a secret, isn't it?'

'I have that feeling.' Ludwig glanced around. 'But it's not a bad secret. It's not anything to be ashamed of. Right?'

'Right.' With that in mind, Feliciano stepped forward. Antonio was dancing with someone, smiling and laughing delightedly, eyes shining and only for his partner. Feliciano smiled to see him so happy, until he looked at who had their arms hooked behind the taller man's neck and was whispering something in his ear.

It was his brother.

'Lovino?' Feliciano said before he could stop himself.

Ludwig yanked them back, pulling them out of sight, but Lovino's head snapped around. He locked eyes with Feliciano. What dropped into his stomach at the look Lovino gave him was not so simple as fear. It was dread.

Hidden between the shifting mass of people, Feliciano watched his brother step away, his flush spreading down his neck, dig a bill out of his skinny jeans, and stuff it into Antonio's hand.

'Can you grab drinks?' he asked. Antonio looked surprised, but left. Lovino whirled and stalked after them. Yelping in terror, Feliciano tried to run, but Lovino grabbed his shirt and pulled them both into the relative cool and dark near the tables.

'What the _hell_ are you _doing_ here?' he demanded.

'I-I was just-Feliks brought us!' Feliciano stammered. Lovino's eyes raked over Ludwig, and the hot rage in his eyes flared.

'No. He shouldn't have. You shouldn't _be here-_ ' A muscle in his jaw was jumping. 'You don't understand what you're doing here. Both of you have no idea. Do you know how mad Nonno will be if he knows you're here? _Together?_ '

'Why are you here, then?' Feliciano asked, trying to steady his voice even though he felt like crumpling with terror. 'Why does it matter we're here together?'

'It doesn't matter about me, I'm your older brother! I'm allowed to go places I want and do whatever I _damn well want_ no matter _what_ Nonno thinks! You aren't supposed to be here, you're not supposed to be-' Lovino cut himself off again, breathing heavily. 'You being here, especially with _him-_ ' He jerked his head at Ludwig, '-is stupid and irresponsible and wrong.'

'It's not wrong!'

'Shut _up!_ ' Lovino snarled, his movements jerky and sharp with rage as he stalked back to his seat. 'You're leaving, Feliciano. Both of you. Right now. And you won't tell Nonno about any of this.'

'You're here because of Antonio, aren't you!' Feliciano shouted back, so furious over the way Lovino had looked at Ludwig he didn't care about the consequences for once.

'I told you to _never_ say that again!' Lovino screamed, rounding on him. Feliciano's bravery evaporated, and his thoughts were frozen gibberish, pleas and explanations silent on his tongue. 'You don't understand, you don't have any _idea_ what you're doing!'

'Lovi, please-' Feliciano backed away.

'Don't _call_ me that!' Lovino had backed them against the counter, and guilt settled over his face as he stepped away.

For a second, nobody spoke.

'You won't tell Nonno about this,' Lovino said roughly. Feliciano shook his head, feeling numb and cold.

'Good.' Lovino looked like he wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn't form and he closed his mouth. 'Go find Feliks. Get out.'

He turned away, and the last Feliciano saw was his brother's guilt turning to anguish.

0o0o0o

'I don't really want to go home,' Ludwig whispered as Toris drove them back. Feliciano held back all his responses that they didn't have to go home and that they could be everything because he was still running high off the energy of the night.

'Gilbert needs you,' he said. Ludwig looked away in the way he had where he didn't believe him. Feliciano touched his hand. 'He needs you. I promise.'

'I'm talking to him more,' Ludwig said in a rush. 'I'm not sure he needs me, but I told you he's staying for me.'

'I have to let you off here,' Toris interrupted from the front. Feliciano jerked away. Toris shook his head, his eyes faintly sad.

'I don't know how to feel that you both already know what kinds of people…'

'Use the words?' Feliciano asked. Toris nodded.

'Yes. Now, I need to let you off here. Ludwig, your brother and I…'

'I know,' Ludwig said.

They both lingered outside for a long time.

'How angry are they going to be?' Feliciano asked. 'I didn't tell Nonno anything, he's probably worried sick. I told Lovino I was going to an art thing, but Lovino was there, too, and so he didn't tell him and now Nonno's going to be so mad.' He suddenly realized Ludwig was quiet. 'Ludwig?'

'With any luck, they'll be too busy arguing to notice me,' he said with the hint of a sad smile. Feliciano felt terrible.

'I'm sorry, I didn't think-'

'It's not your fault!' Ludwig looked surprised. 'Feliciano, you don't need to apologize for them. Really.'

Feliciano couldn't explain his helpless rage at the arguments and himself for forgetting that Ludwig's situation was different. He just nodded, tears building up in his throat.

'You can talk to me any time, okay?'

'I know.'

0o0o0o

Nonno was sitting at the table when Feliciano came in. Feliciano felt even worse.

'Where were you?' Nonno asked plainly.

'Downtown,' Feliciano mumbled, shame making his limbs heavy. He sat when gestured. 'At a...a party.'

'Why?'

The tangle of emotion that had been building up over Lovino and the meeting and Ludwig burst out of him and Feliciano was confessing through tears that he hadn't thought because it sounded brave and new and he couldn't resist and he was sorry until he was spent, hiccuping, sore and raw, tears making the world blur. Nonno was bent over him, gently rubbing his back.

'There, there. It's fine, Feli. I would be a hypocrite to say that I never had my share of youthful adventures.'

Feliciano still hadn't told him everything, and the real weight of the words and Ludwig were still heavy, but he felt better. 'Really?'

'You wouldn't believe the things I got up to.' His grandfather chuckled, even though it turned into a slight cough. 'Liquor, women, and adventure, that's the meaning of life!'

The rest of their talk, Feliciano wiped at his face and breathed deeply and promised he'd tell next time, before he went to his room, feeling much better than he had before. Nonno stayed in the kitchen, waiting for Lovino.

Feliciano wrote a note. His handwriting was sloppy and perhaps tearstained because he was shaking with emotion and relief, but it was at least honest.

 _Hey Ludwig_

 _My talk went pretty well and if you want to talk I'm here_

Then, he took up his paints and tried to capture the way Ludwig had looked in the lights, but he was so drained and exhausted that he almost drifted off a few times. When Feliciano heard the door, he jerked upright, wiped a smudge of green off his cheek, and ran for the stairs to listen to Lovino.

Nonno's tone was completely different.

'You were out again.'

'I'm older now, it's not like in Venice. I know what I'm doing.'

'You don't.' Nonno sounded frustrated. 'It doesn't work out, Lovi.'

'Don't call me that.'

'Lovino, this kind of...it never works out. Believe me.'

'What would you know?'

'A lot more than you.' The sound of a chair scraping back. 'I know you tell Feliciano he doesn't understand, but you don't, either. You don't know what-what this is like.'

'I do!' Lovino hissed, and lowered his voice. 'I do.'

'Do you?' Nonno challenged. 'Tell me that you're completely confident you are...like that. Tell everyone.'

'No!' Lovino cringed and lowered his voice again. 'No. I'm not ready.'

'Exactly!' Nonno pushed back his chair with a loud clatter, and everyone winced.

'It's a personal matter if I want to do anything! It's not your decision!'

'It's _wrong_!' Nonno nearly shouted. 'It _becomes_ my decision when you're unprepared and don't know why it's wrong! This is a mistake!'

' _Don't you dare call him a mistake!_ ' Lovino roared, sending his chair clattering back as well. 'A _mistake_ is you moving us to America! The only good thing that's come out of this is-is _him_!'

'Him?' Nonno asked dangerously. Lovino was silent. 'You-you are like that? You have someone?'

'You don't get to control these things,' Lovino said, voice shaking. 'You don't get to decide what will or won't work. We aren't a mistake.'

'He is a mistake. You're making a mistake,' Nonno said quietly. Lovino turned and stormed away. Feliciano ran back to his bed and stayed still, heart pounding, as Lovino slammed his door and threw things against it, over and over, and heard his crying.

 **0o0o0o**

 **However, there are a lot of problems for them.**

 ** _:: The grainy quality of old films_**


	19. Chapter 19

**The characters are finally coming together.**

 **0o0o0o**

'Feliciano?'

Feliciano nearly fell off his bed out of fear, but he recognized the voice.

'Ludwig?' he whispered. 'Are you out there?'

'I am. What happened? Are you okay? I heard shouting.'

'I'm fine,' Feliciano assured him, crawling out of bed with the blanket wrapped around him. He jumped up on the ledge and immediately slid off to stop Ludwig from fiddling with his hair. 'Lovino...Lovino's in love with Antonio.' The sentiment was familiar, but the shock of hearing it was new. 'And Nonno found out.'

'Oh.' Ludwig squeezed his hand. Feliciano didn't even think he knew he did it. His face was bloodless and his eyes were distant. 'What...what did your grandfather do to him?'

'Nothing. Lovi stormed off and he's crying now. I'm really worried about him, but if I go check on him he'll probably throw something at me.' Feliciano was about to ask if Ludwig had a helmet anywhere when he noticed his quick, short breathing. 'Ludwig, what's wrong?'

'The church,' he said. He was staring blindly at his hands, and Feliciano managed to nudge them both back into his room so at least the height wouldn't be so bad. Ludwig grabbed at his arm, looking faintly surprised that they were both on his bed again. 'They said-they said that if people were like that, you...turned them out.'

Feliciano had not been paying attention in church, and this made him feel sick. Would he always have to hide the way he wanted to look at Ludwig until they could be alone? But even on the roof, Feliciano felt too exposed now. Their rooms seemed the only safe place, and even then, if someone opened the door...

'Nonno wouldn't do that,' he said, to reassure himself. 'Right? I don't think he would turn m-turn Lovi out just for Antonio. Do you?'

'I don't think your grandfather would do it,' Ludwig agreed with a half-smile. 'I think Vati would.'

'What?' Feliciano grabbed him, sour fear flooding through him for Ludwig and for what they could be. 'No, he wouldn't.'

'Gilbert...if Gilbert did that. He'd tell him to run away like he's always threatening. At least. That's what I think.' Ludwig took a shuddering breath and leaned subtly towards him. Feliciano wrapped his arms around him, and Ludwig's shoulders went slack. 'I don't want him to run away. I...I would almost rather he be kicked out, as terrible as it sounds, because at least he wouldn't have left me willingly.' Ludwig grimaced. 'I feel horrible.'

'It's not your fault,' Feliciano said emptily. There was no real comforting words for Ludwig's situation. 'It's...it's okay. If not now, one day.'

'I think Gilbert is going to be kicked out,' Ludwig said quietly.

'What?'

Ludwig didn't say anything more. He was gazing blankly at the felt flower on his desk. Feliciano shook his shoulder gently, and Ludwig instantly clapped a hand over his, pupils dilating in fear.

'Ludwig?' Feliciano was horrified with himself and with whatever had _happened_ that he hadn't been noticing. 'Ludwig, I'm sorry.'

'It's-it's nothing, how many times have I told you not to apologize-' Ludwig shook his head sharply and took a deep breath. 'No. Gilbert does that sometimes. I'm...sorry.'

'How much have they been fighting?' Feliciano asked. 'Were they-when you came home?'

'Vati told me to go upstairs and that he'd deal with me later.' Ludwig closed his eyes, hands curling in the sheets. 'They're fighting every night now. Maybe I should make my wish for them to stop.'

'I'm going to go talk to them,' Feliciano decided. Ludwig grabbed his arm, hard enough to sting. 'No!' Feliciano flinched, and he immediately loosened his grip, guilt obvious in his eyes. 'No, Feliciano. It's not worth it.'

' _You're_ worth it,' Feliciano said emphatically, desperate to fix something of what he feared was already breaking, the thing making Ludwig's shoulders always stiff and his eyes harder. He was looking more like his grandfather now, but Aldrich was coldly intimidating and Ludwig…

Feliciano thought he was wonderful, and still really wanted to kiss him. It would be easy just to lean over and untangle his hair and tell him exactly what _ti amo_ meant before he kissed him. The only thing that was stopping him was that he was beyond terrified of how Ludwig would react.

There was no reason Ludwig _wouldn't_ push him away, Feliciano thought. He'd said it himself that Vati would throw him out if he was _like that_. And beyond that-he was thinking of 'what if's when Ludwig was breaking inside.

'Are you okay?' Ludwig asked, and Feliciano berated himself again.

'I'm worried. About you and Gilbert.'

Ludwig scoffed slightly. Feliciano saw the shadows under his eyes and his stomach twisted. 'Let's...let's not talk about me right now.'

'Ludwig-'

'Please,' he said. 'Tell me about you.'

'You already know a lot about me.'

'Tell me about Venice, then.'

Feliciano closed his eyes and dug into his furthest memories for sunlight and flower boxes in windowsills, and it was easier to let himself talk about canals at sunset and echoing museums with delicate carvings than to tell Ludwig what he wanted to do. He hoped that if he poured out his feelings into memories of his old city, they wouldn't burst out of him right now into all the wrong words.

He was shocked out of his reverie when Ludwig gently cupped his face.

'You're smiling,' he said quietly, blue eyes searching, piercing into him and pulling out his secrets. Feliciano was breathless, mind empty of words except _ti amo_. Ludwig's eyes seemed brighter blue, and suddenly he reddened and started to pull his hands away. 'Sorry-'

'It's fine,' Feliciano interrupted, taking his hands in his. Ludwig stilled, the hesitancy of a wild animal settling over him, before he slowly touched his face again, then his hair.

'The way you describe Venice is beautiful.'

'I'm going to take you there when we're older,' Feliciano promised. The soft touch of hands pushing through his hair was sending shivers up and down his spine. Ludwig's fingertips brushed his cap, and Feliciano took it off. His whole body was tingling and bursting with feeling and alive.

'You're beautiful,' Ludwig said quietly, and even though they'd said it before, it felt new and electric when Feliciano was more aware of his accented English- _and Ludwig had called him beautiful_. His heart was going to stop with the wonderful feeling.

'You too,' he said. Ludwig shook his head, eyes still fixed on different angles of his face. Feliciano knew the look. Ludwig wanted to draw him, and was realizing that his face had changed.

'It's not about me right now.'

Feliciano would interrupt that it _should_ be, or that he wanted Ludwig to tell him about Berlin and reassure him there wouldn't be a war, and that some day nobody would ever hear the word _fag_ or _queer_ so he could believe it himself. But Ludwig curled forwards against him and rested his head against his shoulder, his soft breathing echoing through his body and Feliciano's where their skin touched.

He felt what might have been the slightest press of a kiss to the back of his neck, soft as moonlight, and it felt like his whole soul shuddered in longing.

'It's the third tomorrow,' Feliciano said, hearing his voice as if from far away.

'It is.'

'I'll tell you what _ti amo_ means.'

Ludwig hummed, a note of drowsiness evident in it under the happiness. 'I'm glad you're here, Feliciano.'

'Me too.' Feliciano tucked his blanket further around him. 'But I should go.'

'I know.' Ludwig untangled himself. The back of Feliciano's neck was cold in the absence of his kiss. He shivered.

'Thank you,' he murmured again. Feliciano looked down at him, his heart aching. Ludwig's lashes were silvered by the moonlight, and his eyes were hazy.

'You can...it's okay to do this,' he said. 'Just not in public, right? Because people might think, and-'

'I don't care what people think,' Ludwig said, more than half-sleepily.

'We can't _not_ , though.' Feliciano said. 'You saw it yourself, that people do terrible things sometimes to people they think are…'

'Homosexual?'

This conversation was straying too close to Feliciano's sudden burst of feelings, but he _wanted_ to keep going. Maybe, if Ludwig was really _like him_ and this wasn't just friends, then they could have something.

'It's not safe,' he said instead.

'And Vati would…' Ludwig was cut off by a yawn. 'I want you to keep safe. Gilbert keeps fighting people, but maybe he has a point. I would do the same.'

'Don't get into any fights,' Feliciano worried. 'Especially If Gilbert isn't around. And especially if he is. You'll get hurt. Francis said that sometimes you could only save yourself when things like that happen.' But he didn't want to have to only save himself. He wanted to save some other world as well. He didn't want to think about leaving someone like Ludwig.

'I can't not want to save you.' Ludwig smiled, eyes sliding closed. 'Because we're friends.'

Friends. Just friends, not what Feliciano wanted. That was...it had to be okay.

' _Ti amo_ ,' Feliciano said, choking off all his other words. He left.

0o0o0o

The crying had stopped. Feliciano crept into Lovino's room. He was staring dully at the ceiling, eyes blank.

'Lovino?' Feliciano tried. 'Lovino, are you okay? I heard...I heard shouting, and now that you're better, even a little bit, I was thinking that maybe you should tell him.'

'Get out,' Lovino said flatly.

'Nonno would want to know that it's Antonio,' Feliciano insisted.

'Get out of my room.'

'If he knows it's him, and not someone else, maybe he'll accept it-'

'If you tell Nonno about Antonio, I'll tell him about Ludwig.' Lovino's voice was deadly calm. 'Don't lie to me, Feliciano. I know the way you look at him when you think you're alone.'

'I don't look at him strangely,' Feliciano protested, knowing full well it was a lie. Lovino laughed, sharp and rough.

'You look at him like he can solve every problem that ever brought us to America.'

'I don't even know what those problems are!' Feliciano cried, eyes brimming with furious tears. 'We just moved here one day and all I know is that I don't know anyone and that America is huge and loud and kind of scary and Ludwig does fix those problems. Because we're friends.'

Friends, however, did not seem at all a strong enough word for what they were. Feliciano could admit that now.

'I swear to God, Feliciano, if I tell Nonno what you really think of him, he will never let you see Ludwig again.'

Feliciano stumbled out and buried himself in his remaining blanket and dreamed of scraped palms and raw hearts.

0o0o0o

The previous day seemed to have wrung every emotion out of him last night, but the nervous, sparkling excitement was buzzing through him again, because it was Ludwig's birthday, and Feliciano could tell him ti amo and after that-

He would see. Everything was before and after now, and all Feliciano knew was his own feelings, which were still twisted and confusing, but honest and right. Even more so after last night.

Feliciano didn't know if Ludwig hadn't known what he was doing or not. He didn't want to think about if he hadn't, and if he had…

His thoughts were interrupted by Lovino stumbling downstairs past him.

'Lovi!' Feliciano rushed after him. 'Lovi, I'm sorry, please don't tell Nonno.'

Lovino didn't acknowledge him. His eyes were rimmed in red and the shadows around his eyes were so dark they almost looked like bruises. He looked hungover.

Had Lovino drank last night? Feliciano racked his memory but couldn't recall. If Nonno didn't already know, a glance now would tell him everything.

But when they got down to the kitchen, Nonno looked them over like nothing was out of the ordinary. In fact, he seemed almost too cheerful.

'How has everything been in America, Feli?' His grandfather affectionately ruffled his hair.

'It's been good, except-' Feliciano was interrupted by his grandfather coughing. 'Nonno, are you okay?'

'I'm fine, just a little under the weather.'

'You've been saying that ever since you announced moving. Is it because you didn't want to leave Venice? I didn't want to leave Venice either, but you're the one who moved us, and now that I'm here, I really don't mind it, and-you aren't moving us back, are you? I don't want to leave.'

Feliciano barely caught the sad shadow in his grandfather's eyes. 'I won't move back,' he said. 'Now, go on about your time. I want to hear everything about my grandsons.'

Lovino muttered something about school, bolted down his food, and left. Feliciano watched him go.

'I know you were listening last night,' his grandfather said quietly. 'Do you know anything?'

A while ago, Feliciano didn't know if he could keep a secret that would make things better if shared. He now knew that threatening his own feelings for Ludwig would silence him.

'No,' he said.

0o0o0o

The school day passed in a crawl, but finally Feliciano practically sprinted home and found Gilbert working on the car again.

'I need to go downtown,' he said breathlessly. Gilbert chuckled affectionately.

'I always need to go downtown. What do you need?'

'Something for Ludwig.'

Gilbert grinned. For the first time in a long time, light seemed to spark in his eyes. 'What are you thinking of?'

Feliciano thought of Ludwig's half-serious wish for them to stop fighting, and knew that was the only thing that would matter.

'I'll find something,' Feliciano said. Gilbert seemed to think this was a worthy answer, because he wiped off his hands and gunned the car.

'You told your old man you're going?'

'Yes,' Feliciano said guiltily. Gilbert laughed and pulled onto the larger road.

'I heard all about your little adventure with baby brother last night,' he said conversationally, turning around to addrsss him better. Feliciano was pretty sure he was also over the speed limit, but if his warning distracted Gilbert, who seemed to be driving fine looking into the back seat, he would almost definitely die, which would be especially bad today.

'Sorry.'

'Are you kidding me? It was the most awesome thing ever!' Gilbert casually checked the speedometer and did nothing to change his speed. 'He needs some adventure sometimes. I promise, you're doing good.'

Feliciano wanted to ask why everyone knew him in the place, but had a feeling Gilbert wouldn't like it if he did.

'What did you get him?' Feliciano asked, changing the subject.

'A book on drawing. He's always drawing now. And a bird encyclopedia. Can I give a suggestion?'

It was actually very impressive how well Gilbert could drive with just his knee and a foot on the pedal. 'Sure.'

'Music.' Gilbert winked and turned back around in time to wave to a passing police car.

0o0o0o

Gilbert knew exactly where the music shop was. He led Feliciano to the records and told him he'd be by the sheet music.

It has been so long since Feliciano had heard music the way he did sometimes in Italy-spilling out the windows and doors and inviting him to dance. The names and colours of bands spilled through his fingers. Wondering which music Ludwig liked let his mind wander into bluer-than-sky eyes and the soft curl of heat from his kiss and what kissing him for _real_ would feel like-

'Hey, Feliciano!'

Feliciano jumped and nearly dropped the records. He put them back, hoping his face wasn't red. 'Hey, Alfred!'

'You looking for music?' He shuffled through the stacks with impressive speed, adding one more record to his own pile. 'I come here all the time,' he explained. 'What's your taste?'

'I...it's not for me.' Feliciano knew he blushed then. 'It's for Ludwig.'

'Cool!' Alfred's brow creased in concentration as he flicked through the records. 'Does he like rock? No, he doesn't seem like the rock kind of guy. Classical? Doesn't his brother know that classical musician?'

'Something with lyrics,' Feliciano insisted. 'Maybe something old? Something played in Europe?' Alfred paused, and then pulled out an older-looking album.

'Here,' he said with surprising sombreity. 'Maybe.'

Feliciano read the labels- _Lola_ , _People Take Pictures Of Each Other, This Time Tomorrow_ , and _Dandy_ , all by _The Kinks._

'Do you know this band?' he asked. Alfred looked suddenly self-conscious.

'I like their _Arthur_ album,' he said. 'Come on, if you like it, let's go pay.'

The whole drive home, Feliciano tried to convince himself to tell Gilbert about Ludwig's wish. He tried to envision himself also telling Gilbert about his feelings for Ludwig, but the image was ridiculous.

Gilbert stalled in front of the house, taking as long as possible, and Feliciano shoved aside all his worry because this was for Ludwig.

'He wants you to stop fighting.'

No surprise, no shock, because they both knew this was coming. Gilbert nodded. 'I know.'

'He told you?'

'No, but...Feli, it wasn't hard to guess. So we haven't. Today.'

'Can you keep not fighting?'

'I'm trying.' Gilbert sighed and stopped the car. 'Listen. I'm glad you two are friends, okay?'

'Lovi isn't,' Feliciano burst out. 'He thinks-he'll tell Nonno, but I'm not like that, or at least I can't be in public, and I'm scared that people will hurt us if I am.'

He realized he'd almost admitted too late, and to Ludwig's brother, but he seemed the only person who would understand. Gilbert seemed to be thinking over his declaration, and Feliciano was a twist of worry.

'People will always want to do terrible things for mindless, stupid reasons. All you can do is be happy and prove that they won't change you.' He grinned slightly. 'And in case you're wondering, he looks at you like you hung the stars.'

Feliciano blushed bright red and fumbled his words and opening the car door.

'Thank you,' he finally said, clutching the music. 'For driving me.'

'Any time,' Gilbert said with a grin.

0o0o0o

Ludwig looked happy when he climbed out onto the roof. It was only barely afternoon, lazy and slow and hot, and the light was like gold on his smile.

'Hello,' he said. His black jacket was loosely draped around his shoulders and his shirt showed off his arms, and Feliciano really did not need any more reasons to be distracted right now.

'Happy birthday!'

'Thank you.' Ludwig pointed back inside. 'I think maybe my wish worked.'

'That's really good,' Feliciano said, relieved. Ludwig gave him a sort of secret smile.

'You still are going to tell me ti amo means, right?'

'Of course,' Feliciano said. It came out as a squeak. He'd never really been able to look this closely at Ludwig in broad golden sunlight, and it was like all his colours were saturated and Feliciano would have really liked to stay here forever and tell him everything, but that was impossible. For now, at least, before ti amo. After, maybe it wouldn't be quite so impossible.

'I also got you this,' Feliciano said, trying to stop his thoughts, giving him the records. Ludwig flipped softly though them, amazement glowing on his face.

'These are...they sound really good.'

'Thanks, Alfred recommended the band and I thought these ones looked nice by the labels but I've never listened to them, and if you don't like them I'll go talk to Alfred.'

'I like them,' Ludwig said firmly. 'I...I also got you something.'

'But it's your birthday, which means I give you stuff, and-actually, if everyone exchanged gifts on a birthday, do you think that would work? I think we should try it, but not right now because I'm supposed to give you the prese-Ludwig, is this a drawing of me?'

'Yes.' He looked away. His ears were red.

'This is really good,' Feliciano said, and Ludwig blushed brighter.

'I've been practicing. Not drawing you! I mean, I have been practicing drawing you, but not always.' He took a deep breath and looked Feliciano in the eyes. 'I meant what I said. You're very…' And the stiff, awkward worry melted away suddenly as he reached out, sliding his hand into the short curls at the back of Feliciano's neck with an expression like incredulous amazement, raw and exposed. 'Beautiful,' he finished quietly.

They were back to last night, but this time Ludwig knew what he was doing, and Feliciano was so alight he could barely think, because this was dangerous and wonderful and felt so right.

'You're staring,' Ludwig said, with a soft sort of smile, knowing he'd been doing it too. Feliciano felt that pull he had last night to lean in tenfold, and if he didn't do something just as dangerous and wonderful and right his heart would stop because it was beating so fast.

' _Ti amo_ means-' Oh, he was doing this, and Feliciano didn't know how he'd never said it before because God, those blue eyes-he'd fallen in love a long, long time ago, and he didn't care for once about anything except the way Ludwig looked at him.

' _Ti amo_ means I love you, Ludwig,' Feliciano said, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, or would have, if Ludwig hadn't turned and caught him half on the mouth.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Everything will work out.**

 ** _:: Flowers covered with dewdrops or hoarfrost_**


	20. Chapter 20

**I've been reading far too much to concentrate.**

 **0o0o0o**

For a second, nothing existed in the world but the soft gold heat. One of Ludwig's hands was in his hair and one was clutching his shirt-he didn't remember when it got there. Feliciano could feel Ludwig's hammering pulse in his chest and the soft sound he made, maybe a word, maybe his name. He wasn't pushing him away.

Slowly, Feliciano drew back. Ludwig's hands tightened. His eyes were hazy.

'Feliciano,' he said, like he was trying to remember a long-ago memory. Feliciano's head was spinning a thousand directions and his tangle of emotions reached down past his bones and he was scared beyond belief, but also felt like jumping up and shouting with the sheer giddy joy of it and he definitely wanted to kiss Ludwig again, but time seemed to have stopped its ticking and the world was stretching like caramel. All Feliciano could do was watch life happen and hope what Ludwig said next wasn't _I need to go_ , because he might want to let Feliciano down softly, and why wouldn't he just _say something_ -

'Feliciano,' Ludwig said again, shakily, his hand slipping down to cup his face and Feliciano was _burning_ and all his explanations or excuses turned into a sobbing laugh, almost hysterical.

'Ludwig-' He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if Ludwig was angry at all or if he liked it or if he was even really _like that_ , especially if his grandfather would be angry.

'Feliciano.' Ludwig's hands were ghosting over his shoulders, like he was trying to memorize this moment. 'You know Vati will…'

The knowledge was already settled deep into his bones, like lead bullets. Feliciano should have expected this but Ludwig was kind and beautiful and Feliciano knew he wouldn't have been able to resist no matter what. 'I know.'

'But I don't care about that.' Ludwig held him tighter, and then he _smiled_ and Feliciano knew that the world was going to be okay, at least for this glorious moment. 'We can-whatever this is, it's okay. It's right.'

'Because we're friends?' Feliciano asked, heart thrumming. He didn't know what answer he wanted to hear. He didn't just want to be friends, but it would be safer.

'I...I don't know. But that...you-that was good. It felt nice.' Ludwig offered that smile again.

'You didn't hate it?' Feliciano asked, not daring to believe. Ludwig gave him a soft kind of look that said all the wonderful right feelings Feliciano couldn't articulate even in paint and this time he was the one to lean in and gently, gently kiss him on the mouth. He tasted like something sweet and Feliciano wanted him more than anything.

'Ti amo,' Feliciano finally choked out, scrabbling for a better hold on Ludwig's thin shirt. 'Ti amo, Ludwig, and sei bello.' He wanted to tell him that he was _amazing_ and beautiful but that could wait for now. Everything could wait, because the only thing that mattered was their heartbeats in tune and his hands pushing that jacket off Ludwig's broad shoulders and the way Ludwig whispered his name.

They broke apart breathless and sat there, grinning at each other, flustered and feeling like they'd borrowed wings, stealing secret glances as Feliciano fixed his cap and Ludwig put his jacket back on. This was the kind of secret that it was nearly impossible not to share, and Feliciano knew it would be hard not to practically announce he'd _kissed_ Ludwig Beilschmidt, but for now, everything was warm and right and wonderful.

'I've never kissed anyone before,' Ludwig said into the giddy silence.

'Me either,' Feliciano said. He still didn't know if Ludwig was really _like him_ , but that didn't matter for now. Nothing mattered except that Feliciano was sure that if he stepped off the roof, he'd float, he was feeling so light. He also thought the taste might have been honey. 'Hey, Ludwig? Did you bake anything recently?'

He blushed and vaguely nodded. 'Cake. I don't always like sweet things, but…' He couldn't seem to keep his smile down. 'I...I'll see you.'

'I'll see you, too, and-Ludwig, ti amo. And happy birthday.'

Ludwig gave him a teasing quirk of a smile. 'Ich liebe dich, Feliciano,' he said. 'I'll tell you what it means eventually if you haven't guessed.'

Feliciano had a guess.

He drew the rest of the night, unable to stop smiling, and dreamed of the blue eyes and the shift of muscles under his hands he'd tried to capture in graphite.

0o0o0o

Ludwig wasn't entirely sure he'd ever been scared of heights when the evenings passed like this, with the music quietly crooning in the corner and his head still fuzzy from Feliciano. He felt like there was nothing in the world that could hurt either of them.

He still woke up thinking of it-the way Feliciano had felt, the buzzing vibrancy of all he was. They hadn't tried kissing again since, but Feliciano touched him more now when they sat together and talked (but not about the night), teasing about translating-Ludwig was allowed to hold back since Feliciano hadn't told him and let him _wonder_ for ages-stealing glances and smiling in giggling exhilaration of knowing such a _secret_ , and it set off fireworks inside of him.

The only problem was that Ludwig knew he could never tell his family. Vati would be coldly furious about Feliciano, just like he was to Gilbert. Ludwig much preferred being left to the side than being actively shunned. Gilbert didn't even trust him with the knowledge of the music hall. He hid his entire other life, and so Ludwig was allowed to have this incredible secret.

He'd told Feliciano he didn't know if they were still _just friends_ , and it was the truth. If being homosexual meant Feliciano was going to be hurt, he didn't want to be. The preacher would know, his family would know, and Ludwig couldn't stand the thought of the retribution falling on Feliciano.

Whatever this was was _right_. It just wasn't _like that_. Not until they were out, like Feliciano told him about.

Still, all that was hard to think of when Feliciano was crawling through his bedroom window. He looked slightly worried.

'What's wrong?'

'I keep hearing things at school,' Feliciano said, sitting down next to him on the bed. Ludwig automatically wrapped an arm around him.

'I'm sorry.'

'You tell _me_ not to apologize,' Feliciano accused, resting his head on his shoulder. 'It's not your fault. I know you're not the kind of person to...do that. You understand about that, Ludwig.'

A pulse of what might have been shame rushed through Ludwig. Feliciano had made allusions to that before, and if he was, that was _good_. But Ludwig couldn't be more than friends in name with him until things changed, and he didn't know how to express that to Feliciano.

'Do you know who's doing it?'

'No. And I don't want to go looking for them, because they might do something to...people. And I know Gilbert said that people wouldn't bother me if they knew I was with him, but I don't want to threaten people and you always get so _worried_ when Gilbert fights that I can't stand it.'

 _Something to...people_. Ludwig wanted to ask him if he was _like that_ almost desperately, even though it didn't matter. Except it did, and if Feliciano was like that then Ludwig could maybe be brave, too.

Feliciano was watching him with a strange, sad expression.

'You're thinking too much so often now,' he said. 'What are you thinking of now?'

'You,' Ludwig said. 'I don't think I can think too much of you.'

Feliciano's eyebrows flew up and he tried to not look happy, which was impossible for him because all his emotions shone out of him. Ludwig loved it when he looked happy like that.

'I've been thinking, too,' he said. 'It means _I love you_ in German, doesn't it?'

Even him just saying the words made Ludwig shiver, even though he'd said them himself.

'Yes.' His voice was rough. 'Yes,' he repeated. 'Ich liebe dich.'

Feliciano sat up, golden eyes serious in the dim light. 'Say that again. Please.'

Ludwig wanted to kiss him. Ever since that night, he'd been thinking of it.

'Ich liebe dich, Feliciano,' he said again, dimly noticing that Feliciano's hand was in his and that the door wasn't locked.

'Ludwig-' Feliciano also seemed at a loss to continue.

'Are we-do you want to do that?' Ludwig blurted. Nervous excitement was building in his fingertips. 'I can lock the door.'

'I…' Feliciano ducked his head and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, eyes shining with uncertainty and want. 'Can you? Because I want to, I've been thinking about you all the time.'

'Me too. Of you.' Ludwig got up to lock the door and held Feliciano in the way he hadn't been allowed for what felt like too long. Feliciano gave a breathless laugh.

'Do you want to sit on the bed?' he asked, and Ludwig clumsily moved them, ending up tumbling on the sheets. Feliciano smiled and Ludwig's heart was probably going to give out because of the way Feliciano was and he didn't mind.

'I want to kiss you,' Ludwig told him, the words feeling like dangerous, perfect lightning on his tongue. Feliciano met his eyes for a moment, giving his incredible smile, and Ludwig touched him gently and kissed him.

The first time had set off a million fireworks in every particle of his bones, and now Ludwig thought he might really crack under the weight of the soft sounds Feliciano made and the way their clumsy, tangling limbs felt pressed against each other. Ludwig still didn't really know how it worked, because he'd only seen messy sessions in the street and they weren't like that, but this felt incredible and right and Feliciano's hands were moving over his chest, taking off his jacket and Ludwig decided to forget everything like fights and slurs and concentrate on the way Feliciano said his name, and the heat of his skin, and his beautiful golden eyes.

He knew before he leaned in again that he didn't want to be 'just friends' with Feliciano.

0o0o0o

He shouldn't have gone downstairs.

Ludwig was still dizzy from Feliciano when he stumbled downstairs, grinning like an idiot, and heard the quiet, muffled tones of an argument. His heart sunk. Gilbert really hadn't been arguing so much recently, but maybe he was just being quieter about it.

Ludwig tried to be as silent as possible kneeling by the stairs, listening in.

'I told you not to take the car and get more of this..this garbage.' Vati's voice was low and cold.

'It's not garbage.' Gilbert had a sarcastic edge to his tone, which meant he would say horrible inflammatory things.

'Don't think I don't know where you run off.' The sharp slap of paper on their table. 'Have the people at the music hall led you into this?'

'More like I've led them into it!' Gilbert fired back.

Vati laughed, and Ludwig cringed back. The sound dug deep.

'You're a fool.'

Gilbert laughed, too, wild to the point of derangement. 'You can't control me. I'm going to leave and Ludwig's going to come with me.'

'I won't allow it,' Vati said simply. 'You have no right to ruin his life along with yours. Yours, by all means. I cannot stop you. But you can't do it to him.'

'What's going to ruin him is leaving him in this city for the rest of his life.' Gilbert abruptly got up and Ludwig pressed himself back against the wall. 'He needs something more than this.'

'You think that what you want is what he needs,' Vati accused. 'You can't destroy his future.'

'You're the one destroying his future.'

'You're the one getting into fistfights on the assumption that it'll make him...something. He's not a deviant like you, Gilbert. You can't make him what he's not.'

Gilbert snorted. 'I don't need to.'

A heavy silence.

'What?' Vati said. Gilbert didn't say anything. 'Gilbert, do you have something to tell me?' Vati asked louder.

'It doesn't matter.' Gilbert turned and Ludwig couldn't jump back in time. The look of sheer guilt and fear on his face was haunting. Ludwig knew what he looked like-Feliciano had messed his hair into curls and spikes and his jacket was tied around his chest.

Gilbert abruptly turned back around.

'It doesn't matter,' he said more forcefully, but there was a note of panic.

'Have you turned him or something?' Vati rustled through the papers on the table.

'God, no.' Gilbert's voice dripped with scorn and disgust. 'I wouldn't hurt him. You can trust me on that, at least.'

'It's probably the only thing I can.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **Gilbert wants the best for people, but his ideas aren't always good.**

 ** _:: Book covers that tell their own stories, that you look back on at the end_**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hopefully their relationships will improve.**

 **0o0o0o**

Gilbert stayed awake for hours almost every night. Ludwig knew because he could hear the scratching of pen on paper. He was always writing. Usually letters. And Ludwig knew he got some back, penned in careful purple-inked cursive and in unmarked envelopes.

Ludwig saw one of Gilbert's own-scrawled in blue, marked with a drawing of his pet canary-stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans when Gilbert nearly tripped down the stairs and his shirt rode up. He looked exhausted, even more than usual, and dark circles ringed his eyes. Gilbert accepted his hand up and tucked in his shirt. They ate breakfast in stony silence, and Ludwig cast about for something else to think of, and as seemed to be normal now, thought of Feliciano.

Feliciano had a way of bursting into his life and making it more chaotic and a thousand times better than before. It seemed to have some added to his hair, because Ludwig hadn't been able to fully tame his hair in the morning, and stray spikes still stuck out at the back. He thought it looked obvious exactly what he'd been doing, but it's not like he could ask Gilbert.

Even if Gilbert thought he might be-and he wasn't- _like that_ , the tone of his voice made Ludwig sure he wouldn't tell him about what had happened last night.

'I need to go downtown,' Gilbert said, taking the last piece of toast.

'You're grounded,' Vati said calmly.

'I'm seventeen!'

'You live in my house, you follow my rules,' Vati said darkly.

'What rules are those? I'm sure I broke the one about being an acceptable grandson,' Gilbert snarled, throwing his fork back on his plate with a clatter. Ludwig flinched, and Gilbert shrunk in his seat as if he had been the one scared by the sharp noise, remembering. He was quieter now. 'Which rule did I break?'

'You aren't allowed to take the car out by yourself.'

Gilbert bit back a scathing response Ludwig could see he wanted to shout. 'That was a week ago, and it was for Feli.'

Ludwig hadn't known he'd taken the car, let alone for Feliciano.

'You can wait another week or two to go downtown, then.'

Gilbert held his tongue again, and after a long, tense moment, went back to eating, stabbing his toast with a screech of metal on ceramic. His other hand drifted towards his pocket, brushing the letter. He wasn't arguing, but all his firebrand emotions couldn't be checked for long, and Ludwig was worried.

When he went upstairs, Gilbert was examining Feliciano's painting. Ludwig stopped in the doorway, feeling awkward. He didn't know how or what Gilbert would think of it.

'He's an incredible artist,' Gilbert said without turning to look at him, and the tense knot in Ludwig's stomach loosened a little. He stood beside him.

'I know. I...I gave him one of my drawings. So he could give me advice.'

Gilbert didn't comment on that. He looked down at the records.

'That's why I took the car. For him to get these.' He must have noticed Ludwig's expression, because he ruffled his hair. 'Don't worry, I don't regret it so long as you liked the music. _The Kinks_ , huh. Good band. Personally, Roddy likes-I mean, I've heard of this new artist. He goes by Eno.'

'Who's Roddy?'

'Someone from the music hall.' Gilbert's tone made it very clear he didn't want to continue that conversation. Ludwig didn't care.

'Is his full name Roderich Edelstein?'

Gilbert didn't say anything for a long moment. 'Why?' he asked, voice measured.

'He's fairly popular as a composer, isn't he?' Ludwig scrambled for an explanation. 'Kiku said you were in a competition with him.'

Gilbert studied him out of the corner of his eye. Ludwig was more used to seeing other people be studied this way by his brother, like he was trying to figure out if he was angry at them or not.

'Yes,' Gilbert said slowly. 'Vati isn't so keen on that, so that's why he doesn't like me going there.' His voice rang of the half-truths Ludwig heard people say about their past lives when they were in Berlin.

'But you're friends, right?' Ludwig pushed. Gilbert said nothing. 'Like Feliciano and me,' he added, wondering if that included the _right_ feeling and if Gilbert might understand that.

Gilbert's mouth cracked into half a grin for a second, like maybe he did understand. 'Yes. Like you and Feliciano.'

Gilbert looked more easy and open now than he had in a while, and Ludwig knew he should ask about everything, like _what if I think Feliciano is beautiful, is that okay here?_ But he had the feeling the answer would be no.

'Are you writing letters to him?' Ludwig asked instead.

Gilbert looked taken aback, and his hand went to his pocket. 'Yes, about competition,' he said. 'Like you and Feliciano drawing. As friends.'

'Is that why you wanted to go downtown? Why couldn't you just put it in the post box?'

Gilbert sighed and sat down on his bed. Ludwig sat down next to him.

'Ludwig, it's not like that. This is different. Vati doesn't know about…' He worked silently for an answer. 'He doesn't know Roderich exists, okay? And even though it's just friendly competition, I don't want him to know in case he might get mad. And since Roderich performs, he moves around, and I don't want letters being delivered back here if I address it to a hall he's already left. So either I give it to someone I know downtown, or I give it to Antonio.' Gilbert took a deep breath. 'You'll understand when you're older.'

'I can give it to Antonio,' Ludwig offered.

'He's out of town.' Gilbert's hands were absently squeezing in the bedsheets. He muttered a soft swear. 'He's gonna be worried. We had a...meeting. My letter confirms I'd be there.'

'You sound like you care about him,' Ludwig said. Gilbert seemed a different person with a soft, painful sort of yearning. He gave a smile.

'I do. Like you care about Feliciano.'

That last line made Ludwig turn red, but Gilbert seemed too distracted to notice and left.

0o0o0o

Feliciano didn't know how he hadn't noticed his grandfather taking so much cough medicine, but now that he was paying attention, he saw the bottles tucked in random cupboards that Nonno would pull out when he didn't think Feliciano was looking. He seemed to have less reservations with Lovino. It had been this way for what felt like forever. Nonno would have a secret, Lovino would look angry and almost scared about it, and Feliciano would never know. It made him feel like his family thought he was still a baby.

That's partially why having this glowing, amazing secret was so good. That, and that Feliciano still went breathless when he thought of it.

Antonio had been coming over a lot. Lovino would usually tell Feliciano to go, which gave him an opportunity to sit in the old apple tree with Ludwig and tell him things and practice sparring with sticks. Feliciano thought he was getting pretty good, but he would be a lot better if he stopped getting distracted by the way Ludwig looked when concentrated and moving. He'd spent one too many of their matches with Ludwig's 'sword' pressed to his stomach, half-dazzled by that secret, unabashed smile just for him and decidedly without an excuse as to why he lost that wasn't a _detailed_ description of why Ludwig was so pretty.

They hadn't really kissed again-the cheek didn't count, Feliciano decided-but sometimes they talked about it, and Ludwig had also thought it was _good_ , but they hadn't talked about if they were like Francis said. _Homosexual_. The word felt foreign and strange, too tied to the words people shouted that made them both flinch.

They talked about everything and nothing instead of that, like school and how Antonio had suddenly stopped coming over-apparently he was out of town-and that Vati didn't know about Roderich. Feliciano found this interesting.

'I don't know if I could hide something like that,' he confessed. 'I almost accidentally told Lovi twice yesterday by asking if my hair looked like you'd messed it up.'

'Please don't tell him. Your hair looks fine. Mine won't take at the back,' Ludwig teased. 'I almost asked Gilbert the same thing.'

'Really, though, how could you hide someone you care about like that? If we were still friends but mostly over letters, I wouldn't be able to-' Feliciano stopped before he said _kiss you_. By the blush on Ludwig's cheeks, he seemed to have understood. 'I would have accidentally told everyone.'

'Gilbert said they were just friends, like us,' Ludwig pointed out. 'I don't think he knew about...that, but we both didn't tell about that today. Because…'

The silence hung between them, speaking of older brothers and grandfathers and labels. They said nothing more. Ludwig looked up towards the sky.

'I'm glad we're friends,' Ludwig said instead.

'Me too,' Feliciano agreed. Ludwig was still watching the sky, but he took his hand. 'Did...did something happen?'

'Gilbert is grounded, but at least he didn't fight it, even though he wanted to mail a letter to Roderich,' Ludwig said. 'What happened with you? You look worried.'

'I don't! Even if I am, I don't _look_ worried.'

Ludwig touched the corner of his eye. 'You squint here when you're worried. What's wrong?'

'Nonno is taking a lot of cough medicine,' Feliciano said. Even to him, it sounded ridiculous.

'Is he sick?'

'I don't think so.'

Quiet, and Feliciano saw the way Ludwig's hand went up to his hair.

'It's not just Gilbert, is it?'

Ludwig dropped his hand from his hair. 'It's-I always do that, don't I?'

'Yes. It's really obvious, at least mine is pretty subtle. Don't stop it, though, I want to know so I can make you better. Or if you do, make it be because you're not worried at all anymore. What happened?'

'Are...are _we_ sick?' he asked hesitantly. Feliciano's stomach dropped. 'I hear people-and the preacher-say that people who are homosexual are sick-but are we even like that?'

'I don't know,' Feliciano said honestly. 'But this...whatever this is feels right. It can't be like they say.' He gestured to their hands.

Ludwig nodded firmly. 'It's...I was thinking that if being a...homosexual meant that you got hurt like you see on TV, I never wanted to be that. But we don't have to be.'

'What are we, then?' Feliciano asked.

'Just us,' Ludwig answered. 'We can just be us.'

Feliciano agreed.

0o0o0o

Lovino looked tired and more annoyed than usual with every mishap. Feliciano tried to stay out of his way, but he had a feeling he knew why his brother was so irritable.

'Antonio didn't abandon you, he just left town!' he announced, standing at Lovino's doorway. Lovino nearly dropped a shoebox and practically dragged him inside the room.

'I know that!' he hissed. 'He told me before he left. Counseling at a weekend camp or something.' He snorted, absentmindedly rifling through the box to ensure nothing had fallen out. Feliciano leaned over to see inside, and he slammed the lid shut, but not before Feliciano saw the sheet music.

'You're taking that to Roderich, right?'

'I...you're not supposed to know about that,' Lovino accused.

'You can take Gilbert's letter downtown! Because he needs to deliver it, but not through post, and Antonio's out.'

'I can't, Feli. I…' A strange emotion flashed over his face. 'I have to make sure Nonno gets over his...cough.'

'But you are delivering?'

Lovino relented. 'Yeah, I am. Favour to Toni. _Damn_. I meant Antonio, Feliciano, you didn't hear that-'

'You call him Toni!' Feliciano exclaimed, delighted. Lovino was finally warming back up to him. 'Can I call him that, too?'

'No.'

'Can I call you Lovi?'

'Absolutely not.'

'Please?'

His brother's eyes softened slightly. Lovino had always had a weakness for him, even when they were young. No matter how much he complained, he let Feliciano past his prickly outer shell. Feliciano was glad he'd let Antonio see the real him, too. 'Not in public. And if you do it too often, I'll rescind permission. Only Antonio can-' He stopped.

'You know,' Feliciano said, bouncing on the bed in his excitement, 'Ludwig and I were talking about this thing we do-it's not important, but it kind of changes things. For the better. And if you and Toni don't want to be like that, you can just be yourselves.'

Instantly, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Lovino quietly put down the shoebox.

'What's the thing?' he asked.

'That's not important-'

'What was it?'

'I…' He couldn't tell him. This was their secret, and not just because it was the only important thing that was just his. 'I told him sei bello. And ti amo.'

Lovino looked stunned into silence.

'Feliciano, you-you can't do that,' he said.

'But it's not like that!' Feliciano protested.

'Do you think the people who see you telling another man those sorts of things will care that you don't want to call yourself a certain name?' Lovino shook him harder than he must have meant. His words were spiraling. Even if they were just themselves, the preacher and the people on the street didn't care. He would get hurt. Ludwig would get hurt.

'We've been careful, nobody would know-it's just us, Lovi. We're not hurting anybody.'

'Do you think they care? Do you think any goddamn war on this earth wasn't made because of people who weren't hurting anybody?' Lovino wasin a fury now, red and not listening to protests. He started shoving things apart in his drawers, searching for something. 'You want to know what happens when people think you're like that, Feliciano?' He pulled out a pocketknife, and Feliciano barely caught Antonio's signature on the side before Lovino pulled up his sleeve and showed a long, angry red line. The sight made Feliciano sick. 'Antonio gave me this to defend myself after someone gave me this.'

'Because you were…' Feliciano breathed. The fury drained from Lovino's face, turning him ghostly white.

'Because they thought-he's an idiot and he can't be careful-you don't know what you're talking about.' Lovino couldn't even form a proper sentence. 'We're not. We can't be.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'He's...he's the pastor's son. He told me.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **These characters are going to need a lot of luck.**

 ** _:: Theatre sets before lighting_**


	22. Chapter 22

**I should apologize for the characters.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig was sitting as close to the record player as he dared, reading meaningless passages, trying to block out the words he could catch from downstairs when Gilbert's voice rose. The words that caught his heart in cold steel fists, _not like that_ and _you wouldn't understand_ and always _him_ , always _he's not who you think_.

 _We are not who you think_.

Ludwig had been trying to write a note to Feliciano about what was happening, but-his breath was rasping, didn't he just read something a few chapters ago about stress bringing on something like lung failure, he _does not_ want lung failure-but he gave up.

This was too soon, he was only a few weeks into teenage and this was too much and not in the good way Feliciano was, because Feliciano was a golden sort of all-encompassing wonderfulness and this noise was shattering the cautious silence that fell when Gilbert had decided to hold his tongue. He was spitting all of his firebrand frustration out in barbed words of _we are right, this is right, we are_ like that.

Ludwig knew he'd crack, knew they'd both crack, but he thought it would be later, or when he was away, or at least in _January_ , when Gilbert turned eighteen and left him behind. The voices downstairs rose again, and Gilbert's screaming response clashed with the crooning music.

' _You can't do this!_ '

The next page showed a ribcage and a heart that looked fragile. If he looked at it long enough, Ludwig thought he could figure out where exactly the point was on the clear, clean diagram that this horrible pain was coming from, but his whole chest was burning because real life was not these diagrams that he'd been looking into more and more, real life was full of beautiful love declarations and a whole world trying to stop them being spoken, no matter how right they were, no matter how good he tried to be otherwise, in some attempt that maybe if he was perfect in every other way people would ignore that he loved Feliciano and leave them alone.

Gilbert was threatening to leave now. Vati was telling him there was a reason he hadn't already.

It seemed like he can't do anything right enough for these arguments to finally stop. The fantasy flickered at the edge of his consciousness of standing at the edge of the stairs and declaring _exactly_ what he felt for Feliciano, just to make them be the ones feeling helpless about stopping him for once.

Ludwig hated the flickering thought with a bright passion but he hated the arguments more. When Feliciano told him he seemed like he wasn't scared of anything, it had been all he had to not tell him that this was his nightmares.

Gilbert's voice was half scream, half desperation now, the voice of someone who's kept a secret for too long- _his name is Roderich, his name is Roderich Edelstein just like it was in Europe_.

Silence, in which Ludwig closed his eyes and listened to the record scratch to an end, and everyone in the house understood beyond the doubt of hope and hate that Gilbert loved like they weren't supposed to here.

The silence was broken by his name being wielded like an ace of spades, quiet venom telling that they'd come to America for _him_ and Gilbert was falling back into this destruction, he was ruining his _little brother_.

Gilbert's retort that he wasn't, he wouldn't ruin things, broke, downstairs, into a final, clear sob, and he ran. His door slammed. Ludwig thought he heard Vati's choked breath, the scrape of his hands across the armchair rests, the way he tried not to follow his grandson into such brokenness and failed.

Ludwig kept reading, not understanding a word, trying not to think, trying not to hear the way Gilbert was screaming into whatever he'd shoved into his mouth, the harsh, frantic breaths of a broken man, of a haunted man. A name and an apology, over and over again- _I'm sorry, Roderich, I'm so sorry_.

0o0o0o

The house was silent for the next two weeks. Not silent in the way it had been before, but silent because there was nothing to say, because Gilbert was in his room, either unwilling to walk with him to school or not going at all. Ludwig still hadn't told Feliciano.

The only words worth speaking were the apologies that never came. Ludwig felt numb and empty. The atomic bomb had happened and he was wandering through the wreckage, trying to understand how his life had been torn to shreds. He couldn't explain what had happened on the rooftops between their windows because it felt like a dream he couldn't make sense of to himself, and maybe if he didn't think about it, it would be forgotten.

Gilbert was always a storm, but now he was a hurricane, pacing through the upper hallways, staring out the windows like he was in prison. Maybe he was. He went back into his room if Ludwig came upstairs. Ludwig kept out of his way and told Feliciano he would tell him another day about what had happened.

Then came _him_ , on the tenth afternoon of utter silence, on a day Vati was downtown, striding up the walkway. Ludwig opened the door and looked up into fine features he'd seen in pictures, purple eyes that looked over him like they were matching him to Gilbert.

'You must be Ludwig,' he said slowly, like it answered a question. Ludwig thought he looked on edge. 'My name is Roderich. Do you know where Gilbert is?'

'I'm still here,' Gilbert said from behind him. His voice was a conflicted mess, straining with emotion. Ludwig spun to look at him, and saw Gilbert's eyes shining with anger or tears. His body was slowly tensing, and his hands were curling into fists. He was shaking. 'Ludwig, get out.'

Hot anger stoked in him. 'You can't do that. Not after that argument.' He couldn't express how unfair it all was, that Gilbert got to argue and shout and Ludwig couldn't tell anyone his secret about Feliciano.

'Get out. You can be angry later.'

Furious, Ludwig did. He turned around to shout something, and through the window, saw his brother kiss Roderich on the mouth, break away and start shouting, tears rolling down his face, and be interrupted by Roderich grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back in before they staggered out of view. He turned, feeling dizzy, and let himself into Feliciano's garden, where he couldn't see it happen. The air smelled like rain.

0o0o0o

Feliciano saw more than heard Ludwig tossing sticks at his window from the kitchen. He opened the front door and ran out, pulling him into a hug. Ludwig went still in his arms before embracing him back, burning his face in his shoulder and taking heaving breaths.

Ludwig had looked worse than usual recently, but he looked ragged right now. His usual jacket was missing, and he was shivering in a T-shirt. Feliciano offered him his blue jacket when they untangled, but he refused.

'I'm not cold, it's just-' He closed his eyes and his mouth pulled into a pained, wild grimace. 'I don't know. Feliciano, I'm scared.'

'It's okay.' Feliciano leaned against him, tracing circles on his palm with his thumb. 'What happened?'

'I said I'd tell you later about what happened. Gilbert told Vati he was-' The last word was a whisper. 'Homosexual. That he loved Roderich. I think. I wasn't trying to hear, I never wanted to hear, I never wanted any of this.' He was shaking worse now, and his hand was a death grip, but Feliciano didn't care. The only thing that mattered was pulling Ludwig out of his mess of thoughts. Gilbert could wait.

'Did Vati throw him out?'

'No.' Ludwig looked down and loosened his grip. 'Not yet. Gilbert isn't talking to anyone. I just-I thought it would be later, I'm not _ready_ , Feliciano. I don't want to be alone.'

'I know. I know.' Feliciano felt helpless in the worst way. 'You said there was an argument where Gilbert told Vati he was...like that?'

'Yes. And now Roderich is here.' Ludwig leaned against him. 'I feel like there's nothing I can do to make this better. I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologize,' Feliciano said, but it was too quiet in the silence. Ludwig didn't even react. He stared at the flowers growing in the flowerbed, the shade of his eyes. What they were hung between them, the unspoken knowledge and _what if_ about if Ludwig ever told Vati.

It started to rain.

Ludwig looked up, and the smallest smile curved across his face.

'Can I help you garden?' he asked. Feliciano dropped his smock and hat and jacket under the awning of the house and worked silently beside him, shoulders bumping, hands tangling in the damp soil. Slowly, Ludwig began to talk again, about things like fear and _back in Europe_ words, and Feliciano listened and ached and told him to _talk to Gilbert_. At the end, Ludwig told him _ich liebe dich_ with a smile and gentle hands guiding him close and this time, when they kissed, it was soft and pained and grateful and tasted of something sweet and rain. When it was over, they sat outside and watched the sun.

The rain kept falling.

0o0o0o

Ludwig hurried to catch up to Roderich. He had been sitting on his side of the fence that separated his and Feliciano's yards. Roderich looked flustered when he came up.

'I wasn't supposed to be here,' he said. 'I need to go.'

Ludwig only had three questions. 'Are you in love with Gilbert?'

Roderich glanced around for people who might be listening, but something had changed in him.

'Yes,' he said lowly.

'What did Gilbert mean by your name being the same in Europe?'

Roderich took pause, and made a strange smile. 'We...used to know each other. In Berlin.'

The last one was less of a question than a statement. 'Do you know what happened when he told Vati about you?'

This time, Roderich straightened.

'He told me he was going to,' he said.

0o0o0o

It was an accident that Ludwig came home early a week after Roderich had arrived. Gym had been canceled, and he found Gilbert sitting at the table, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He started, but his movements were sluggish and off-centre, like his birdlike sharpness has lost a wing.

'You're not supposed to be here,' he said, voice raspy. It was the first words he'd said to Ludwig in so long. Ludwig wanted to be angry. He wanted to throw things and make Gilbert understand how scared he'd been.

'You're not supposed to be…'

'A queer? Drunk, either.' Gilbert's mouth curled in a savage imitation of a smile. His eyes were bloodshot. 'I told you not to take after me.'

'I wanted to,' Ludwig said, feeling like he was six and huddling in corners while Gilbert fought Red Army officers again. 'You were supposed to be a better big brother.'

Gilbert flinched at that. 'I tried,' he whispered. Ludwig came closer, prying the bottle out of his hands. Empty. It still reeked of alcohol.

'How much did you drink?'

'This was the first time. At home. And there was only three inches.' Gilbert gestured with his fingers about how much. 'It was too much. Roderich was too much, I couldn't resist.'

Gilbert-a disgraced angel with a chipped pocketknife, trying to be better, wanting to be a firebrand. Too loud and brash and important in his own world, and Ludwig couldn't keep up with the way he needed more and more and more of the fights and conflict that seemed to keep him alive even though they ate away at everything he was. Ludwig realized, in the dusty afternoon kitchen, that he really didn't know his brother anymore, if he had at all.

'You did take after me. After _him_ ,' Gilbert said, jerking his head at the armchair, but that didn't make sense. His eyes seemed slightly more lucid, sad and pained. 'Baby brother, I have one question. I won't hurt you no matter what you answer. You can lie to me, God knows I'd deserve it. But I won't hurt you and I will never tell.'

Ludwig already knew the question.

'Are you gay?' Gilbert asked, gently, soft hands and soft voice.

'Tell me first,' Ludwig demanded, even though he already knew. Gilbert didn't even protest.

'I am. I'm in love with Roderich Edelstein.' He said it so calmly, so easily.

Gilbert-selfish and selfless at all the wrong times, and Ludwig wanted to hate him, he wanted to with a fury, but he _couldn't_ , not right now. Later. Later.

'I can't be,' Ludwig choked. Gilbert pulled him close and stroked his hair like he had when Ludwig was very young. He let him. He wanted to be younger again.

'I'll ask a better question. Are you in love with Feliciano?'

Ludwig tried to form the word, not knowing if it would be _yes_ or _no_ that he would say, and all that came out was a silent sob, and then another, and Gilbert held him while the horrible shaking noiseless _fear_ leached out of him until he was empty again.

And then the words started spilling out of him, collapsing into his big brother's arms, trusting that he'd make the world safer and better for a moment, that he'd protect him, that he'd keep his promises. Everything Ludwig used to trust, he trusted again. 'I can't, because Vati's going to turn me out, and people will hurt Feliciano. I can't be. We've talked about it, and we're just us, but-' He was saying too much, too soon, but he couldn't stop. Ludwig took after his brother and couldn't keep his own secrets if it killed him. 'I've kissed him,' he said, and even though it hurt, it felt good to say.

'I thought so,' Gilbert said. Ludwig didn't have the energy to respond with all his questions about why Gilbert fought about it if he thought Ludwig was the same way. 'Vati won't turn you out. Especially if you keep quiet.'

'I don't want to keep quiet,' Ludwig said. He knew he sounded childish, but he didn't care.

'I didn't either, back in Europe.' Gilbert's hand moves a bit awkwardly over his hair. 'Baby brother, listen. We can't- _you_ can't be like that here,' he amended after seeing the way Ludwig flinched at the word _we_. Ludwig wasn't ready to be like Gilbert was in any sense of the word.

'Where can I be?'

'Europe,' Gilbert said. They both knew that wasn't an option.

Gilbert let him step back, and Ludwig pushed back his hair and wiped off his face, trying to forget the way he'd cracked. Gilbert had an odd expression on his face.

'When did you start…' He waved at him, eyes lingering on his hair. 'You got taller.'

Ludwig didn't respond and Gilbert didn't push for an answer. Ludwig turned to go outside, to go to Feliciano and let himself be vulnerable around someone he was more sure wouldn't hurt him. At the last moment-he wasn't sure why-he looked back and asked, 'Did you know when I was kissing Feliciano?'

'I had an idea.'

'The first time was October third,' he said, and left.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Pride and selfishness are most of their flaws, but difficult ones to overcome.**

 ** _:: Suddenly, joyfully laughing because of simple things_**


	23. Chapter 23

**This is definitely a slow burn.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig was too tired for church. Gilbert's eyes were ringed dark and bloodshot as he bent his head in the pews, and he was almost subdued. He didn't speak out. He didn't look at Vati.

The only good thing was Feliciano. He stared at the floor, but their knuckles brushed.

'Let us pray,' the preacher intoned, and Feliciano breathed out beside him, mouth forming the quiet, thankful words that finally the speech on homosexuality was over. He didn't look at Ludwig-it was too dangerous, and they both knew that-but when people closed their eyes to pray and Ludwig followed, too exhausted over everything to even think, Feliciano slipped a piece of paper into his hand. Ludwig curled his fingers around it, and Feliciano's hand lingered for half a second before he pulled away.

It was too dangerous to sneak away after the service anymore. Ludwig waited until he was home to read the note.

 _I was thinking of going downtown to talk to Roderich about Gilbert, if you wanted_.

The best piece seemed to have been scribbled through and rewritten a lot of times.

 _We should tell Nonno and Vati where we're going so we don't get in trouble. I don't want you to get in trouble. I hope you're okay_.

 _I have something I want to tell you later_.

His final address looked like he couldn't decide how to sign, filled with determined blotches. It finally ended:

 _Yours, Feliciano_

Ludwig held it up to the light and saw the word _love_ gleaming through the ink.

0o0o0o

Feliciano needed to talk to Ludwig, but he had things downstairs first. Nonno was drinking a lot of coffee. Lovino was talking to him in harsh, sharp tones, and Nonno just shook his head, turning away. Ever since Lovino had revealed he liked a man, Nonno had seemed as if he hadn't heard it, and he'd accepted Lovino's help with his cough with a measure of frustration. Feliciano didn't know how to feel about Lovino revealing it was Antonio anymore. After what had happened with Gilbert and Roderich...Feliciano felt sick. He _had_ been stupid. Lovino was right that he wouldn't understand.

'You were right,' Feliciano told him when Lovino went upstairs to get the painkillers. Lovino just jerked his head and snorted.

'About what?'

'That I wouldn't understand.'

Lovino paused as he tapped two pills into his hand, but moved on. 'This is about Gilbert, isn't it.'

'He...he came out,' Feliciano said helplessly. He needed someone to talk to about it who wasn't as broken-up about it as he was.

Lovino's hand jerked and the bottle went skidding. A few pills spilled out across the carpet. He picked them up methodically. He was trembling.

'Give me ten minutes,' he said, not meeting Feliciano's eye. 'Ten minutes and we can-we can talk.'

Feliciano watched the clock and waited for Ludwig to write back. Eventually, he opened the window and whispered a hello. Ludwig cautiously opened the window as well.

'Hello,' he said. He still looked terrible-as terrible as he could be-but his smile still made Feliciano flutter. 'You wanted to tell me something?'

'Lovi's coming in a few minutes, so I can't talk now, but…' Feliciano pushed the thought away. He couldn't be distracted. 'It's complicated.'

'I have something I want to tell you, too.' Ludwig allowed himself a small chuckle. 'Everything seems complicated right now.'

'It's going to get better,' Feliciano reassured him. 'It has to. I mean, Gilbert…' He faltered. 'It has to get better for all of us.'

'If only,' Lovino said behind him. Feliciano nearly toppled out the window. He made guilty eye contact with a white-faced Ludwig and backed away.

Feliciano didn't like the look Lovino gave Ludwig, like he was seeing all the pain and hurt that their-their thing, of _sei bello_ , would bring, and none of the beauty.

He shut the window and led Feliciano away to his room.

'Talk,' he said. Feliciano tried to find a good way to start, but everything was tangled in his mind let alone in his words.

'Gilbert came out to his grandfather,' he repeated.

'I know,' Lovino said. He shifted on the bed, and awkwardly reached out to rub Feliciano's shoulder. 'I heard it really went to sh-heard it didn't go well.'

'Ludwig said he was crying,' Feliciano remembered softly. Lovino's eyebrows raised in surprise.

'I...oh.' Lovino shrugged, but his face twisted. 'He came out about everything? About Roderich?'

'Yeah,' Feliciano agreed. He didn't ask why Lovino knew.

'He always was a brave bastard. At least he wasn't turned out,' Lovino said, turning towards the window. He chewed on his lip like he always did when he was thinking. 'I'm surprised he wasn't.'

'Is Antonio going to be turned out if he…' Feliciano was still scared of addressing whatever his brother felt for Antonio.

'Of course he is,' Lovino said. His voice was calm but his free hand was white-knuckled and a muscle was jumping in his jaw. 'Pastor won't have a gay son in the house.'

'Will Nonno?' Feliciano asked before he could stop himself. Lovino took a long time answering.

'I'm still here, aren't I?' He laughed roughly. 'Not that I'm gay to him. I'm just making a mistake. Just a stupid thing that I'll forget when I'm married.'

'You really love Antonio, don't you?' Feliciano asked.

Lovino's face changed past sadness to helpless anger to defeat.

'Yes,' he said. 'Yes. I just haven't...admitted it before.'

'Have you told him?'

'Have you told Ludwig?' Lovino challenged. Feliciano was stunned silent. He _had_ , but they'd agreed that it wasn't-that they weren't- _like that_. They weren't homosexual because they'd get hurt.

But if they wouldn't get hurt, Feliciano couldn't help wondering if that would change.

When he didn't answer, Lovino leaned back against the bed, a sardonic smile pulling at his lips.

'It's better if you don't,' he said. 'I'm telling you, Feliciano. It's better if you stop this. Stay friends if you want, but you can't keep going the way you are. Nonno doesn't want two gay grandsons.'

'Nonno doesn't have to know,' Feliciano argued, but he knew it was useless.

'They always find out eventually.' Lovino bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile. 'You're thinking it's not so bad, because look at me. He knows I like men, he's known it since Venice. He just ignores it. But what about Ludwig?'

Feliciano's blood ran cold. He hadn't thought of that.

'You need to end it. If not for you, for him.' Lovino's voice dropped. 'Gilbert hasn't been turned out yet, but he'll be eighteen in a few months, and then we'll see.'

Feliciano knew he was right, and that was what hurt the most. Him getting forced out to Nonno would mean silence and a refusal to believe. Ludwig getting outed to Vati would mean arguments and words that couldn't be taken back and that soft kindness Feliciano loved being buried deeper and deeper.

He couldn't do that to Ludwig.

He slipped off the bed and left. Lovino didn't stop him.

Ludwig opened the window to let him in and sit on his bed. Feliciano's original reason to talk didn't seem as good as it had been anymore, but as soon as he let himself consider it again, his nervous, babbling words started spilling out.

'I want to come out to Nonno,' he said. 'Except I don't, because Lovi did and Nonno pretends like he's not, and because I'm scared, especially after what happened with Gilbert, and because of how he might react, or what he might think of you, and because-' And these words were sticking in his throat. 'Because we're...Ludwig, you said we weren't like that. Homosexual. Because we'd get hurt. But if we were in a place where it was okay, and you still liked me, would we be?'

His heart was hammering. Ludwig was staring at him, eyes piercing, blue down to his soul. Feliciano couldn't tell if he was angry or not.

'Feliciano, are you asking if we're gay?' he asked. Feliciano only managed to nod. 'If we were safe, I would be. Because I really like you,' Ludwig said, softly, nervously, like he was waiting for his approval, like he needed his approval, bright brave beautiful Ludwig needed _him_ , and Feliciano's heart was pounding with so many emotions he thought he might burst.

'Me too,' Feliciano said, eyesight glittering with tears. 'I'm-I'm glad you are, or I will be once we get out, because I like kissing you.'

Ludwig blushed and looked secretly pleased with himself, and fumbled at the blanket and he was very cute and Feliciano leaned forward and kissed him.

He should stop. He shouldn't be doing this, because it would only hurt Ludwig if his grandfather ever found out, but Ludwig gasped into the kiss, a soft whisper of his name like a prayer, and the noise made him forget most of Italian and all of English. Feliciano was selfish about this, this wonderful secret, but he stopped thinking for a while. It was like nothing and nobody existed. He was still too scared to go further and do things like open his mouth because that was strange and a bit scary and there was tongues and Feliciano didn't know what to do, but this was _good_.

When they pulled back, Ludwig was red down to his chest and his hair was rumpled. Feliciano helped him smooth it down and vowed to stop messing Ludwig's hair up every time.

'You know I can't come out to Vati,' Ludwig said. 'As...you know.'

'It's okay,' Feliciano reassured him. 'We can do it when we're older. Or you don't have to.'

Ludwig nodded, but he looked unsure. 'Gilbert knows,' he said.

'How did he-' Feliciano's mind went to the worst scenario.

'It's not your fault. He was drinking yesterday, and maybe he doesn't even remember it, but he asked me if I was gay. I said I couldn't be, and he asked if I was in love with you. I said yes.'

Feliciano took his hand. He didn't know what to say.

'Was he okay about it?'

'He acted like I shouldn't have taken after him,' Ludwig said. 'Even though I didn't. I mean, I had an idea that he didn't like girls back in Berlin, but I didn't take after him. We happened without him. At least he didn't get angry.' Feliciano relaxed.

'That's good. Mostly. Except he shouldn't be drinking. Nonno says he used to drink a lot, and that it's really hard to stop.'

'Vati says the same thing.' They shared a moment of silence. 'However, his birthday is coming up, and after he's out, Vati can't stop him from doing anything.'

'So he's really going to run away?'

'He's going to run away or Vati's going to turn him out,' Ludwig said carefully.

'Lovino says the same thing.' Feliciano wasn't sure how to phrase the next part. 'He said that if I kept doing this with you, in the end it would hurt you more.'

'That doesn't matter,' Ludwig said. 'I'll be careful.'

'We'll both be careful,' Feliciano agreed, but he was alight, every nerve lit up at the mention that his grandfather didn't matter, even if it couldn't be true. 'So this can-this can still keep going?'

'Of course.'

It was sometimes strange that Ludwig was scared of heights because right now his words made Feliciano feel like he was floating.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I apologize for the characters realizing so slowly.**

 ** _:: Specific, beautiful words you learned from someone else_**


	24. Chapter 24

**I feel bad for what the characters are going through.**

 **0o0o0o**

He had discussed with Feliciano about going downtown and confronting Roderich about exactly what was happening and if Gilbert was going to be okay. Ludwig tried to remind himself of that and remember that there _was_ a way to figure all of this out, but it was hard, because Gilbert tore up the rule books of life and wrote his own. He had left after school a few days later and when Ludwig came back alone, Vati had spent a terse hour on the phone before retreating upstairs. He'd said goodnight still looking distracted. Ludwig had crept back downstairs to wait. An hour. Two hours. The moon slid steadily across the sky and Ludwig just wanted _answers_ , answers and his brother back.

He'd fallen asleep at the table, waiting, and the sudden blaze of headlights woke him up. Hushed voices broken by the harsh hiss of reprimand and a car door slammed. The scrape of a key in the lock. Ludwig was exhausted, drained, just staring at their sticky door handle that Gilbert hadn't gotten to fixing rattling under clumsy grip. When Gilbert opened that door, they would talk. They had to talk. Even if Ludwig was still too used to just obeying all his brother's orders to keep his head down and be quiet while Gilbert fought, because it would _keep him safe_.

Feliciano probably wasn't like that, he thought, a hot pulse of self-loathing surging through him, waking him up. He sat up straighter, promising that he wouldn't just do _nothing_.

The door finally unlocked and Gilbert stumbled in, grabbing the doorframe for balance. He was obviously drunk.

'God, I need to-need'ta _stop_ ,' he slurred, grabbing at the sink. His blurry red eyes fixed on Ludwig's, and shock cleared them for a second.

'What are you-you're still awake? Vati let you stay downstairs?' he asked. 'Baby brother- _Ludwig_ , you can't do that.'

'I snuck downstairs myself. Why are you drunk? Where were you?'

'I'm drunk because there was a lot of stuff at the...guess it was a party. Downtown, near the art studio,' Gilbert said. He grimaced. 'You-you expected that, didn't you. The party. I shouldn't have gone.'

'I know.' Ludwig was too conflicted to feel anything. Gilbert nodded and, as mechanically as if Ludwig had ordered him to, ducked his head under the cold tap until he was shuddering, the chill pushing the air out of his lungs, making him blink and gasp. He didn't bother to towel off his hair, but he pushed it back into spikes and sat down across from him. He looked almost deranged in the moonlight, all his colours extremes.

'Did Vati try to call for me?' Gilbert asked. He sounded more lucid now.

'Yes.'

'Of course he did. Can't just give up the cause like Feliciano's.' He jerked his head towards the window. 'I saw his brother there. Looked like he was looking for someone. Hope he made it home safe.'

Ludwig had no words. Gilbert looked up at him, eyes shining softly.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'But you'll do it again.' It wasn't a question.

'Yeah. Yeah, I will.' Gilbert's spikes were starting to drip into his face. He slicked them back instead, and with the pain showing through his mask of calm, bleached by the moonlight, he looked like Vati. 'Or...or maybe not. Maybe not, because little brother-' He laughed, and his facade cracked, showing a burst of terror. 'I think I made a mistake.'

'What happened?' Ludwig asked, trying to get a handle on his own rising panic. 'Was it at the party?' Gilbert opened his mouth silently, hands clenching desperately on the edge of the table.

'Yes, but Ludwig, you're too young.'

'No!' Ludwig _couldn't_ let this happen again. 'You thought that about being gay, too. And I am.'

'Keep your voice down,' Gilbert pleaded, glancing nervously upstairs. 'No, that was different. I was just-I _hoped_ , I guess, that you wouldn't be the same-'

'What?' Ludwig cried.

'You get hurt if you're like that,' Gilbert tried to placate. 'I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have hoped you weren't, I should have told you earlier about all of it, but I'm a bastard, okay? I'm not perfect, Ludwig. You're the good one.'

'No.' His voice cracked. 'If I was good, if I was better, I could stop you arguing with Vati all the time.'

Gilbert stopped.

'I'm sorry,' he said. The unspoken knowledge that he couldn't or wouldn't stop settled between them.

'I know,' Ludwig said tiredly. 'Just...tell me what happened. Please.'

'You don't want to know it. It's related to being gay.' Gilbert groaned and laid his cheek on the table. 'Just let yourself enjoy being yourself for a while, okay, little brother? You're a long ways off from having to worry about this. Just be careful who you...touch-which you won't be doing with _anyone_ for a lot longer.'

'I want to know.'

Gilbert raised his head from the table. He was no longer evasive, and the force of his eyes dug into Ludwig, down to his core.

'If you knew what I'm worried about, you'd wish we weren't quite so alike,' he said. 'A lot of people already wish they weren't the way they were because of this fear. Maybe one day, that will change. But not right now.'

0o0o0o

Ludwig was beyond tired. Feliciano had subtly sat closer to him to hold his hand, and Ludwig was trying very hard not to doze off on his shoulder.

Feliciano's grandfather was driving them downtown to the art studio. Lovino had looked over at Ludwig and disagreed with the idea, and they started talking in rapid Italian. Ludwig spent the entire time forcing himself not to flinch, but this wasn't like the arguments in his house. Feliciano's grandfather was smiling, seeming to genuinely enjoy the debate, and Lovino relented after only a few exchanges. Ludwig still had the feeling that Lovino didn't trust him so much anymore.

'I'm glad they got over it so easily,' Ludwig had said, and Feliciano gave him a look.

'That wasn't an _easy_ argument, Ludwig.'

Ludwig had elected not to talk about it anymore. It didn't matter, because Feliciano's grandfather was holding an entire conversation by himself, telling them about recent events and recipes and a woman he'd seen recently, switching from topic to topic with barely a pause for breath.

'-since your brother hasn't been letting me out of the house much,' Roma continued and Ludwig sat up, suddenly alert.

'Why hasn't Lovino been letting him out?'

'Because he's getting over a 'cough'.' Feliciano didn't seem to believe it. 'He's been sick for a while.'

They were left at the art store with a shouted promise to be back in two hours. Feliciano strode in purposefully to where Francis was helping someone Ludwig recognized.

'Kiku!'

Kiku spun to face them warily, but he relaxed.

'Hello, Ludwig. You must be-Ludwig has mentioned you-Feliciano?'

'Ludwig talked about you, too,' Feliciano said enthusiastically, grabbing Kiku's hand. Kiku awkwardly shook, but Feliciano didn't let go. He was already talking-almost like his grandfather, without a pause for breath. 'I heard how you helped with the flowers, and I've been taking care of them, they've almost bloomed again-you can have a few if you want-but I also heard about the fight, and...' He stopped. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's okay,' Kiku said. 'I was unhurt. Ludwig? Is Gilbert okay?'

There was no good answer to that. Gilbert barely recovered from that before falling into the pattern he was in now, if he'd recovered at all.

'He got better,' Ludwig said, leaving the _before he got worse_ unsaid. Francis called Kiku to pay, and Feliciano finally let go of him. The moment Kiku had left, Francis rounded on both of them.

'What happened with Gilbert?' he asked sharply. 'Ludwig, you look exhausted. Did he wake you up?'

'I slept on the table and made him talk to me,' Ludwig said stubbornly. Feliciano's hand tightened in his. He refused to look over and see his worried eyes, or his resolve would break. Francis closed his eyes and muttered a curse.

'At the-by the loosest definitions, _party_ , he went to, he made a very stupid decision. Did Gilbert tell you anything about that?'

'He wouldn't tell me anything except that it was related to being gay and that people were scared,' Ludwig said. 'Are you going to tell us?'

'No. You're too young, it would only worry you.' Francis paced, muttering in French to himself. 'Did Gilbert say anything about being tested for something? Medical work, forms, _anything_ at all?'

'No.'

'When was the last time he left the house?'

'He left after breakfast.'

Francis went pale. 'Is he back? Was he carrying anything when he went?'

'What's the point of these questions?' Ludwig challenged. 'Tell us what he did and I'll answer.'

Francis' blue eyes blazed. He stalked closer, looming over them.

'This would not be the first time your brother has made a decision that endangers his life,' he said dangerously. 'He has done the bare minimum and kept you protected from knowing about most of those incidents. But this is the first one where you can make sure he will not be hurt. _Was he carrying anything_?'

Ludwig's fight vanished. 'His wallet. It was full of bills. He's not back yet.'

Francis turned, calmly walked over to the back wall, and slammed his fist into it with a low roar. He stood there, panting, eyes closed, free hand moving as if to cross himself, lips forming a prayer.

'God help us all,' Francis said when he was finished. He pulled out a flask from behind the counter and drank. When he was composed, he walked back over and sat down in a chair, pressing the heels of his hands into his face. He looked haggard. One of his knuckles was split, and blood trickled from the cut.

'Your hand,' Feliciano said. He gave Ludwig a terrified look. Francis shook his head, hollowly staring at the floor.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I had hoped. Gilbert never knew how to be careful.'

He shifted in his chair and sat up.

'What do you know about diseases?'

'Gilbert's sick?' Feliciano asked. He was fiddling with the edges of his pageboy cap again, like he always did when he was nervous.

'We don't know yet, but he might be.' Francis wiped at his face and continued, voice stronger. 'What he talked about-what scares people-is a disease you can get from other people. Usually gay people.'

'Will it kill him?' Feliciano asked, voice trembling. Francis took a deep breath.

'Feliciano, nobody knows much about this disease yet. He might not even have it. It's just a test…' He was running his hands through his hair, eyes wild. 'It won't. Not Gilbert.'

Francis sat in silence for another moment, staring at the floor. Finally, he stirred.

'What did you really come here for?'

'Roderich,' Feliciano said. 'We need to talk to him.'

Francis almost smiled and said he'd drive them.

0o0o0o

Francis drove them to the apartment. It was a sprawling, glittering sort of complex, but Ludwig couldn't appreciate it. The words were scratching at the inside of his head. _Not Gilbert_ and _gay_ and _sick_. The worry was eating away at him, and the only thing worse than the regret of knowing was the guilt of not knowing sooner.

Sometimes Gilbert was right, but sometimes he wasn't, and sometimes Ludwig had to do these things to just understand.

'Roderich lives here?' Feliciano asked from next to him, looking awed.

'He is fairly famous,' Francis noted. 'If Gilbert wasn't too proud to accept his help, he'd be in a much better place. Europe, for example. I'll be back in an hour.'

It took a few minutes of reading the directory to find the room they were looking for. The door was undecorated.

'No going back now,' Feliciano said, and rapped his knuckles on the door.

Roderich opened the door, first looking worried, then confused.

'Why are you here? Is Gilbert okay?'

'That's what we want to know,' Ludwig said grimly. Roderich hesitated before he opened the door wider to let them in.

The apartment was well-furnished, but had the unmistakable hands of two artists in it. Sheet music was scattered over the tables, burying the desk. Half-finished symphonies on scratch paper lay on the couch. A purple coat with note cards in the pockets was draped over a chair. Bright paintings hung on the walls. The sheet music on the piano was for a duet.

And perhaps it was just Ludwig, but the place sang with Gilbert's laugh and voice and touch. The poster on the wall about the singer Gilbert had talked about: Eno. Most of the clothes on the chair were folded impeccably, and at least two of them were T-shirts Ludwig recognized.

Roderich was gazing towards the table, where there was an extra chair. He caught Ludwig looking and turned away.

'What do you want to know?' he asked.

'Gilbert stays here a lot, doesn't he?' Feliciano asked. Roderich nodded. Ludwig couldn't blame his brother. This airy, bright apartment was worlds better than a house full of arguments.

'So when Gilbert leaves, he comes here?' Ludwig clarified. Another tight nod. 'Do you think it's going to be permanent?'

'Ludwig, I don't think-' Roderich protested, but Ludwig stood up.

'Is Gilbert going to run away?'

The musician's deep blue-purple eyes were faintly gleaming with tears.

'We want to,' he murmured. 'We've talked about it. Once he turns eighteen in a few months, he wants to move back to Europe. He said he would bring you if you wanted, but lately he's stopped saying…' Roderich trailed off, now looking at Feliciano. His gaze didn't pierce to the core like Gilbert's did, but Ludwig could feel the story being pieced together to fit into the narrative.

'I understand that now,' he said finally. Ludwig looked over and saw Feliciano half-absorbed in one of the bright paintings, the dusty sunlight catching in his auburn hair, and his heart soared for him. He knew that Gilbert was right about that, at least.

He managed to look away.

'Is Gilbert going to get hurt?' he asked.

Ludwig expected a lie. He didn't expect Roderich to look him in the eyes and say, 'He already has been.'

When Ludwig didn't respond, Roderich continued. 'I cannot protect him from everything. Your brother seeks out fights. All I can usually do is make sure he survives.' He paused, and a soft smile flickered across his face. 'I am in love with him. Deeply. And if all we can do is try to find our own lives, I would like to spend mine with him.'

Ludwig had nothing to say. He had envisioned something triumphant, something that would make everything perfect and understandable. However, real life was not always perfect.

Feliciano took his hand gently, twining their fingers together, and Ludwig thought that if life wasn't always perfect, this at least was.

'Is there anything else?' Roderich asked.

'No, I just...I'm worried about him,' Ludwig confessed. Roderich's hard, worried look softened slightly.

'Everyone is.'

'Thank you,' Feliciano said.

'Don't thank me.' Roderich stood up and rummaged in a drawer for something. He returned with an official-looking folder. 'Can you take this to him? Discreetly?'

'What is it?'

Roderich looked like he would refuse answering for a moment, but he shrugged, false carelessness hiding his pain. 'My medical test results.'

Francis picked them up from the apartment. He saw the folder and looked like he wanted to mention it, but closed his mouth and didn't. All he said was, 'Feliciano, I think I heard Antonio is back in town. Your brother might want to know.'

Feliciano stifled a smile and said he would tell him.

They were quiet the ride back to the house, but Feliciano held his hand. Lovino was waiting at the front door. He looked faintly flustered about something.

'You're back,' he said brusquely in greeting, and turned to go inside. Feliciano squinted at him.

'Lovi, you've got a bruise on your neck, what happened?'

Lovino's hand flew up to cover the small mark. 'I-I hit it on...the table.'

'Oh! Lovi, Francis said Antonio was back.'

'Yeah, I know,' Lovino said. He touched his bruise again, pulled up his collar, and disappeared inside the house. Ludwig thought he saw him try to hide a smile.

The folder was tucked in Ludwig's pocket, and he restlessly ran a hand over it. Feliciano waited until his grandfather had followed Lovino to turn to him.

'I'm sorry,' he said, and Ludwig just laughed tiredly. They weren't allowed to say what they wanted and do what was right in public, but he slid a hand into Feliciano's hair, aching to pull him closer.

'Don't be. It's not your fault, it's Gilbert's.'

Feliciano ran fingertips along his palm, then dangerously close to his mouth. 'I know. I know, but at least we know more now. And we have...confirmation about when Gilbert turns eighteen.'

The few months between now and the cold middle days of January hung heavy around them, making the slow heat seen false, an illusion.

'Ti amo,' Feliciano whispered, before he backed away. Ludwig let him go, knowing it was too dangerous to stand here any longer.

'Ich liebe dich,' he said back, and Feliciano smiled.

They left. Ludwig thought about giving the folder to Gilbert directly, but ended up leaving it under his flute case.

0o0o0o

If he'd known what Gilbert would do upon finding that folder, he would have directly confronted him. Ludwig woke up to curses and crying and thank god thank god repeated over and over. He was practiced enough to slip out of bed silently and peer through the door as Gilbert dialed a number over and over, hissing come on, Antonio, please. Finally, Antonio picked up, and he said only a few trembling words before he hung up and ran outside.

'I made a mistake.'

Ludwig gritted his teeth and knew he had to follow them, but that meant he had to stay hidden. Which meant the roof. There was no time to wake Feliciano, and he had to be brave. He had to ignore all the consequences right now and act, like Gilbert.

But as he balanced on the roof, the familiar terror rose up his throat, choking his thoughts. He dug his fingernails hard into his palms and demanded he be like Feliciano and fearless, and listened.

Gilbert was chainsmoking, the glowing ember at his fingertips the only constant. Ludwig heard Antonio before he saw him, the moonlight reflecting off his curls.

'Four fucking months,' Gilbert said in greeting, discreetly stubbing his current cigarette out on the brick. 'I blew it.'

'The money?' Antonio sounded furious. 'You said you had enough-'

'I did!' Gilbert swore and pulled another cigarette out of his pocket, messily lighting it and jamming it in his mouth. He was trembling. 'I did, I did, but I had to get a medical test.'

'No test supposed to cost that much, Gilbert!'

'Ivan charges more if he doesn't like you.'

'You went to Ivan?' Antonio asked, sounding horrified.

'Antonio, you have to understand.' Gilbert's voice cracked. 'They'll kick me out of the hall if I get myself tested at a real doctor's for that.'

'Gilbert.' No answer. 'Gilbert, tell me you aren't.'

'I am. I think I am. The test hasn't come back yet. Antonio, I think I have it.'

Ludwig looked down and would never forget the sheer terror in Antonio's eyes. It cut him down to the bone.

'Oh my God, Gilbert.' Antonio moved closer, pulling him into an embrace, and Gilbert wrapped his pale arms around him and clung tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. 'Oh my God-when did you find out? Who did you get it from?' His hands were shaking as he smoothed back Gilbert's hair. 'Not Roderich-'

'No, he's clean.' Gilbert looked up, red eyes glassy. 'He's paying the hall enough to ignore anything, but they'll go after me. They want him vulnerable, and I'm his weakness.'

Ludwig didn't understand enough, not from Francis' explanation of the disease, but something about it terrified him in a way not even heights did. 'He tested clean. I got it at that damn party-fuck, god fuck it all!' He pulled out his cigarette and screwed the end into his palm suddenly. Antonio tore his hand away with a strangled groan. Gilbert collapsed into a curled crouch on the ground.

'We had something there, Roderich and me and some guy I can't even remember the damn name of-'

'Gilbert!'

'And when he came back clean I thought I was too, but my test isn't back and if I hadn't gotten so drunk, if I had thought for one goddamn second, this is my fault, this is all my fucking fault, what if Roderich had got it too-'

'Gilbert, listen to me!'

'I deserve it,' he said suddenly, calm, breathing hard, eyes wild. Ludwig swayed where he stood. He was going to be sick.

'Never say that again,' Antonio said shakily. 'You know you don't. How can you even say that?'

'They say it's God's revenge. That we deserve it.' Gilbert dropped his head to his chest, and Ludwig barely caught his final words. 'I'm scared. I don't want to die. What if it comes back positive?'

'It won't.'

'What am I supposed to tell Roderich?' And even quieter, a sob catching in his voice. 'What am I going to tell Ludwig?'

 **0o0o0o**

 **Gilbert is an interesting character who really does play by his own rules.**

 ** _:: The few minutes of almost dreaming when you wake up too early_**


	25. Chapter 25

**It's hard to see, but I promise there is a better ending.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig stayed there, fingers digging into the rough roof tiles. Numb. Gilbert was quiet and still for once in his life. For the first time, he truly looked vulnerable. Antonio was wiping at his face, choking on the words of _it'll be okay, it will all be okay_ , but there was a hollowness to them. This disease loomed over them, a very real death, an end to the firebrand epic of Gilbert, street fighter, big brother, flipping between too soft for the world and so sharp you couldn't get close.

'I need another cigarette,' Gilbert mumbled, and Ludwig heard the catch of his breath that meant he was holding back tears.

'No, you don't.' Antonio slid the box out of his pocket, and Gilbert went slack with relief even though his fingers twitched like he was already going through withdrawal. Antonio took a deep breath and gripped Gilbert's shoulders, but there was no conviction in the movement, and he slumped, pulling Gilbert close again. 'You have to stop doing this, Gilbert. All of this. The drinking, and the running away, and the fighting. For Ludwig, if not for you.'

'I'm trying.'

'You aren't. I told you before.'

'I'll be gone soon enough,' Gilbert said with a trace of humour. When Antonio didn't answer, he shook him, gently, and then harder. 'I'm going to run away. You know that. You said it yourself that I'm not going to die.'

'But do you believe that?' Antonio asked. 'You can't give up. You're already trying to make it so that Ludwig doesn't need you-don't look at me like that. I'm right, aren't I? And yet you turn around and expect that he'll take your word as gospel and never go out and try to find out things for himself.'

'Antonio, I want the best for him. I want him to be safe. Being _gay_ is not being safe. Look at me.' Gilbert flung his arms out.

'Hiding himself for the rest of his life won't be the best. Gilbert, you can't fight anyone who uses a slur and then tell him never to be himself.'

'I just-Antonio, please.' Gilbert looked suddenly exhausted. 'Maybe, someday, things will change. I'm trying to make them change. But _he's going to get hurt_. Look at him- _look at him_ , Antonio, he doesn't even know how to hide it. He doesn't know the things we do. The kinds of things that happen to people like us.'

Antonio closed his eyes.

'Maybe if you'd stay around, Gilbert, and teach him those things, he'd understand,' he said, but there was no venom, only weariness.

'You say that like you aren't going to leave.'

'That's different. I don't want to leave Lovi, but I can't stay in this city if my father's around.' Antonio's face briefly twisted in pain, but he forced it away. 'Is your grandfather still giving you the ultimatum? Gilbert, maybe if you tell him this-'

'Tell him I'm going to die because I'm gay? At least I've still got a couple months this way.' His face twisted and he swore. 'A couple years. I can't believe I was so stupid.'

'You aren't going to die. Francis and I will help you get the money somehow, Gilbert, listen-'

Gilbert pulled away. Tears shone in his eyelashes. 'Antonio, promise me you'll make sure Ludwig's okay. When I do...leave.'

Antonio stared back at him, pain echoing through his face. 'Gilbert, stop.'

'Promise me, Antonio. I already promised you I'd take care of him. It's your turn now.'

'You didn't do a good job of fulfilling your promises. Any of them,' Antonio whispered, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. Gilbert wiped at his eyes and laughed hoarsely.

'I'm sorry.' He gently cupped Antonio's face, brushing away his tears. 'You can't stop me from leaving, but you can make sure everyone else is okay.' His voice dropped. 'Do this for Lovino. Make sure he doesn't have to watch his little brother go through what we have.'

That broke him, and Gilbert knew it. Antonio shook his head desperately, but more tears were welling from his eyes. Lovino was Antonio's weakness, and Gilbert knew it.

'I promise,' Antonio finally said, and the first choked noise wracked out of his throat. He pushed Gilbert back, shaking his head again, trying to stop from shattering. 'I will. You know I will, Gilbert. Go. Just go.'

Gilbert nodded once, and turned to leave him. Ludwig held still. He couldn't find the energy to get back inside his room. If Gilbert opened his door and saw him, he would have no excuses. For once, he didn't need them.

When he got inside, Gilbert lost his careful bravado. Ludwig heard him downstairs, crying again, and then the clink of glass and the hiss of a bottle being opened. The crying grew softer, more ragged, until it stopped and Gilbert staggered upstairs. Ludwig could hear every time he stumbled on the stairs and the way he fell into bed.

Below the window, Antonio was crying, half-curled into himself, stuffing his fist into his mouth to stop the noise. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and scraped the matches on the brick to light them. He lit it with trembling hands, taking deep gasps of acrid smoke like it would heal every hurt he had until his sobs slowed.

Antonio watched his cigarette burn to a stub and finally crushed it under his foot. He took a deep breath and deliberately put Gilbert's box of cigarettes back into his pocket. He leaned back against the wall, wiping off his face. When he was done, he simply stood for a long moment.

'I thought you were scared of heights,' he finally said, and fear shot through Ludwig. Antonio opened his eyes. 'Ludwig, I saw you. I know you're listening to me. You flinch whenever Gilbert moves too fast.'

Ludwig silently unfolded himself and crawled to the edge of the roof. It didn't seem worthwhile saying it was actually falling, or the way Gilbert had argued once. He stayed quiet. He was too tired.

Antonio looked up at him, a faint smile flickering across his lips.

'How much did you hear? I noticed you were up there when Gilbert started talking about how you can't hide that certain way you feel-it's true, by the way.'

'Enough,' Ludwig managed.

'I asked a few of those questions for you,' Antonio said. He leaned back against Feliciano's house. 'Do you want to know anything else? I'm tired of the way Gilbert thinks keeping you in the dark keeps you safe.'

'He's really leaving?' Ludwig asked.

'As soon as he can. As soon as he gets enough money to, that is.'

'I thought…' It was stupid, but Ludwig couldn't stop himself from speaking it as soon as it crossed his mind. 'I thought he was staying for me.'

'He was. He would have, if he hadn't come out. Your grandfather gave him an ultimatum. Stop seeing Roderich or leave when he's eighteen. He chose to leave.' Antonio's expression softened. 'Ludwig, don't think he's choosing Roderich over you. He wouldn't do that. He sees it as that he has to change his entire identity or leave, and he's too proud to simply hide it until he can leave safely.'

'So he's choosing his pride over me.'

Antonio's jaw tightened. 'This isn't an excuse, Ludwig, but Gilbert's been going through a lot, and he doesn't think he's...he doesn't feel like he's good enough sometimes. That means that he wants to distance you from him because he thinks you might get hurt. He cares for you. He really does.'

'He isn't showing it very well,' Ludwig said.

'No. He certainly isn't.' Antonio wiped at his eyes again and took a deep, steadier breath. 'I meant what I promised.'

Ludwig just nodded. His throat was too thick to speak. Antonio pressed his lips together.

'I'm sorry, Ludwig,' he said. His voice was just quiet, rather than sympathetic. Ludwig was glad.

'I...I should be going,' Antonio said after a long pause.

'I don't know what to do,' Ludwig confessed, fear lancing through him again.

'All we can do is keep living and loving, because life has to always get better. Even with your firebrand of a brother in it.' Antonio's hand twitched towards his pocket again, itching for more smoke. He hesitated, then grabbed the box and threw it over the fence into the backstreet. He bent over, panting. 'I shouldn't have had that one cigarette.'

'Do you smoke?' Ludwig asked. Antonio gave a pained grimace.

'I quit. Just like Gilbert quit drinking,' he said, bitter resent dripping through his voice. The change in tone caught Ludwig off guard. 'Except I hear your brother isn't throwing his bottle over the fence. Go to bed.'

Ludwig did. Dimly, he heard Antonio tossing pebbles at a window, and Lovino's sleep-roughened demand of _what are you doing?_ before he fell silent, and said, quietly, _come in_.

Ludwig shut the window and buried his face in the pillow so he couldn't hear Gilbert's nightmares.

0o0o0o

The birds were up in the early morning, with sunlight blushing through the grey and painting the clouds pink and orange. Feliciano woke up, and for a second, it was like he was still dreaming, half-caught in the feel of hands running along his sides and the press of a soft mouth and the sound of his name in Ludwig's voice.

Feliciano snapped awake, embarrassed and guilty and somehow excited. He stared at the ceiling, trying to calm his breathing, trying to figure out what he felt about the dream beyond his tangled first impression. It was too confusing, and so he put it aside for now.

He stuck a note on the window and rushed downstairs. Lovino and Nonno were bent together, arguing quietly. Lovino shook the pill bottle.

'They're not working!' he hissed, cutting off a protest that they needed a stronger prescription. 'You're getting worse, you're dizzy-' Lovino stopped abruptly as Feliciano stopped at the end of the stairs. He cast a final look at Nonno, who looked horrible, pale and uneasy.

'Breakfast is on the table,' Lovino said, stuffing the pill bottle into his jacket pocket. 'Feliciano, make sure Nonno eats something. I'm going to the store.'

'Lovi, wait!' Feliciano grabbed his sleeve before he left and gathered his resolve. 'I want you to tell me what's happening with this...cold. You too, Nonno.'

'It's not a cold,' Lovino said disgustedly. 'I don't know much either, Feliciano. He won't say anything, but it's not a cold.'

'Feliciano, I'm fine. I'm old, it happens sometimes that a flu lasts for a while.'

'Bullshit,' Lovino snarled. 'You're sick. All those pills you've been taking aren't doing anything. We're going to get you tested.'

Panic flared in Roma's eyes. 'No. It's fine. It'll pass.'

'It won't.'

'Please, Lovi.' He looked like he was struggling for words. 'We can't.'

Lovino stood there in the doorway, teeth gritted, wavering between decisions.

'Fine,' he said. 'I won't get you tested if you don't get worse. But I'm still going to the store.' He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

'Come and eat, Feli,' Nonno said, sounding tired, but he smiled. 'Your brother is just worried. When he has a wife and kids of his own, he'll realize you can't worry about every bump in the road-'

'Lovi's not going to have a wife, though,' Feliciano said before he realized his mistake. He froze and stared at the grain of the table, hoping against hope and the dull dread in his stomach that this wouldn't go how Gilbert's had.

Nonno set his utensils down.

'It's in his best interests that he gets a wife instead,' he said softly. Feliciano didn't answer. 'People like him, they get hurt.'

'I know,' Feliciano said, feeling sick.

'Feliciano, look at me.' The worst part was that his voice was gentle, and some small, childish part of Feliciano wanted to believe what he said because it was his grandfather, who always took care of him. 'It's for a good reason. I...I have experience, Feliciano. I know what happens. I don't want him to get hurt.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **I'm sorry for what will end up happening before the end.**

 ** _:: Campfires at sunset_**


	26. Chapter 26

**I read a poem about shining things and pride once.**

 **0o0o0o**

'I want to go back to the place we went last time,' Feliciano said halfway through lunch hour. He'd stopped worrying about people hearing him-the school year was almost over. Feliks looked around nervously, like he was worried someone would hear and tugged him behind the nearest classroom.

'Feliciano, are you really sure? Like, it's not-not _safe_.'

'You go to it,' Feliciano said stubbornly. 'Gilbert used to.'

'Don't talk about Gilbert,' Feliks said sharply. When Feliciano flinched, he winced and awkwardly patted his shoulder. 'Listen, Feliciano. You've never like, known who Gilbert used to be.'

'He fights, I know that,' Feliciano said.

'Gilbert Beilschmidt is _dangerous_ ,' Feliks said. At Feliciano's automatic protest, he held up a hand. 'I know he's got good intentions, and that's like-that's like the absolute worst part. He's got no idea that he just needs to be _quiet_ , so just being around him is dangerous, because whatever he does is like-like it can't just be contained in just him, right? He's too loud to stop affecting everyone else. _And_ he has the nerve to go back to Ivan.'

Furious tears shimmered in Feliks' eyes for a moment, and he clenched his fists. He looked like he was about to scream, or cry, but all he did was close his eyes and take a deep, shaky breath.

'There's like...an event this weekend, I guess you could call it. But you know how I said being around Gilbert is dangerous because he can't be quiet? This is like that. Doubly so, because rumour's going around that the knight himself is going to be showing up.'

'I want to go,' Feliciano said.

'Absolutely not.'

'You mentioned it! Why would you do that, if you didn't want me to show up?'

'You should know where your brother will be,' Feliks said evenly. Feliciano's breath caught.

'So he is-he'll be with Antonio?'

'Of course he will.' Feliks groaned and leaned back against the wall. 'And Gilbert will be there, dragging his pretty musician into the publicity neither of them needs.'

'So?' Feliciano asked, hopeful against all odds. Feliks pulled a hand over his face and blew a long breath out.

'I can't drive you. I'd get fired if they saw my car. Fuck-I'm like, going to get fired anyways, but I can't drive you. And Feliciano-you'll be going with _him_ , won't you?'

Ludwig. Feliciano nodded.

'Gilbert better never find out,' Feliks said. 'As vocal as he is for it, he still associates this with pain first and beauty second.'

0o0o0o

Nonno was gesturing at the television when Feliciano came home. Lovino was sitting stiffly on the couch, thumbing obsessively at the worn pages of an old paperback.

'Bryant. There's a woman with her head on straight,' Nonno said. 'Her methods aren't the cleanest, but she's right, in the end. _That_ kind of life is only painful in the end.' He spotted Feliciano and beamed, but Feliciano was stunned when he saw the nearly deathly cast of his skin.

'Nonno-'

'She's campaigning to make sure kids like you are safe,' Nonno said, and Feliciano caught a hint of strain in his smile, hiding a kind of terror. 'Look.'

Feliciano reluctantly did, and saw a woman waving, beaming just as Nonno had, declaring gay people were a _sin_ , were _wrong_ -

Feliciano looked away, feeling sick.

'It's to make sure you aren't led into this falsely,' Nonno said again. Feliciano blinked, trying to stop the room from spinning, tipping slowly. He stammered something about _homework_ and raced upstairs.

He curled up against the wall. He'd known this kind of stuff happened-in the preacher's sermons, in the news. He'd known it for years. But not to him, not to them.

Feliciano stumbled up, taped a note to his window, and fell into a sleep wracked with dreams of the news broadcast.

0o0o0o

Ludwig had the feeling of the sky before storms, heavy and humid and stretched tight, waiting for the first lightning to shatter the stillness. Even his brother, the hawk, was still. Waiting.

He was planning something. Ludwig had originally thought it was how he was going to leave, but he had a feeling it was something else now, after the news.

Gilbert stayed quiet during dinner, calm and easy, smiling to himself as the broadcast with the hateful words played in the background. Ludwig forced himself to chew and eat, but everything tasted like cardboard. He hadn't told Feliciano everything about Antonio. Just the ultimatum. The rest he was too tangled up about to begin to understand.

'Ludwig,' Gilbert said, interrupting his thoughts, and Ludwig jerked upright, trying to sit straight and be better, not look like he was hiding. Gilbert's eyes flashed in the semi-darkness of evening that their lights didn't chase away. 'They say they've stopped serving screwdriver drinks because of her. Renamed them all in her honour.' On the last word, his mouth curled into a sneer. Ludwig didn't say anything, and Gilbert's face betrayed a flicker of guilt. He went back to eating.

Ludwig went upstairs after. Gilbert had been asked to stay by Vati, and Ludwig was too exhausted to even try to stop the fight. He meant to just go to sleep or something, but Gilbert's door was open, which it never was, and there was an open letter on his desk.

Ludwig stepped inside and picked it up. The writing was in careful purple cursive, and-Ludwig squinted, unsure if it was just the elaborate letters-it was absolute _nonsense_.

 _If they find out I'm bold I'll be fired, you know. I have enough gelt for a few months, but I want to move as soon as you're ready._

 _Your omi knows you're so, regardless. There's no reason to keep around._

 _They say the sharpys will be at the place on Sun. I'm worried_.

Ludwig glanced back at the door and shuffled through the rest of the letters, and it was all the same. _Put down the schooner, I can't stand seeing you like that_ and _I've stopped with the vogues, you're a terrible influence_ and _tell me when you're todd to come back or if your omi's still ajax_.

Ludwig put the letters down and went to his own room. Feliciano's note was shaky-handed and rambling and Ludwig knew with a start that he'd seen the same broadcast. He tossed a pencil, but Feliciano didn't answer. He hung his own note, describing the strange language.

He woke up in the morning to a copied list of terms Feliciano said were in Lovino's _Life During Wartime_ book. Ludwig read through the list with a sinking heart.

 _If they find out I'm gay I'll be fired_ , said the first note. _They say the policemen will be at the place on Sun_.

Feliciano opened the window this time, looking equally sober.

'I snuck out the book wondering if it was soldier code or something, but it was mostly used by people who were gay,' he said.

'Oh,' Ludwig said. Feliciano nodded.

'They had to do this so they weren't caught.'

'And Gilbert's using it again,' Ludwig said. Feliciano nodded, climbing out, easily coming to sit on his windowsill.

'Maybe we should have used this. Polari, they called it.' His light tone fell flat. 'Ludwig, this. About police being around on Sunday. Feliks told me there's something happening this weekend, something like the club, and I think this might be it. All of this.' He swept a hand at the first sentence. 'And Feliks said it was going to be dangerous and he'd get fired, but I want to go. I want to do something because I hate that this is still happening.'

'I'll come with you,' Ludwig said. Feliciano sat up, shocked.

'Ludwig, no. You can't. Nonno-he always says things about how this is a phase, but he's not going to throw me out. Vati will.'

'I don't care,' Ludwig said, that fire of anger and helplessness flaming back in his stomach. 'I hate not being able to do anything when Vati and Gilbert argue. I hate being scared. I hate knowing this kind of stuff still happens. This is doing something important and _right_ , and I want to make this place the kind of place where people like us can be themselves. The kind of place you promised.'

Feliciano looked at him, seemingly at a loss for words, his happiness and fear and adoration flashing over his face.

'You're staring,' Ludwig said quietly, and Feliciano laughed, a nervous, breathless kind of laugh, and his hand wrapped around Ludwig's wrist.

'You're going to get caught and I'm terrified for you, Ludwig, but I also really, really want to kiss you right now,' he said. A new kind of fire bloomed all across Ludwig's chest and face and rushed through every inch of his body, and he leaned in.

0o0o0o

Feliciano had held Ludwig's hand throughout the sermon, not listening when he shouted about the woman on TV, thinking only of how the cornflowers were blooming again, and how Ludwig would look with them in his hair.

The calm before the storm was a drippingly hot golden afternoon, with the crickets stilled and the heat like a blanket over everything, stilling words and arguments for the break of tonight. Storm weather, and it would be a hurricane.

Feliciano looked his brother in the eye and said he was going, and Lovino-solar, summer Lovino, caught half in the act of brushing paint across his sign and the height of his cheeks, looked him in the eye and told him that he would regret it, but he couldn't stop him, and that his only order was that they couldn't get involved.

Feliciano went outside and took handfuls of sky coloured flowers, wove them into his hair and through the loops in his jeans. He looked his grandfather in the eye and told him he was going to see Ludwig. Roma looked older, and more terrified, more pained. He just nodded, and stared out the window.

Ludwig found him at the end of the street, and gave him a smile and told him _sei bello_ in a soft accent and Feliciano slipped a cornflower into his hair and kissed him because the world was fearless and his eyes were the most incredible shade.

Antonio had his own sign, and his own paint, double blue circles on his shirt and on his cheek. He looked at Feliciano and Ludwig, holding hands as the storm came in, wreathed in flowers and their own fury, and when they got out, he gave them a packet of glitter and an order.

'Don't go looking for your brother,' he told Ludwig. 'Get out once they start shooting,' he told Feliciano, and Feliciano didn't have time to ask if he meant film or bullets and supposed it was both.

Antonio ran off down the street and grabbed Lovino's hand, and pulled him into the lee of a building and kissed him, and Feliciano looked away but giggled.

'Everybody seems alive tonight,' Ludwig said. 'Or fearless.'

'Both,' Feliciano agreed, feeling like he could finally breathe in the grip of their hands and the way life was when you weren't scared. He was too alight to be scared.

Feliciano gave them their own order.

'Let's live.'

The storm was building, rising to a crest outside the building where the Bryant woman had stood, calling them _wrong_ , and when Feliciano watched the swell of people, furious and delighted with their own fury, reveling in the way they were, he felt an answering pull. The air was charged.

'Do you think that could have been us?' Feliciano asked.

'I think it is us. That it will be.'

Lovino told them not to get involved, and so they watched as the storm broke into a scream, hiding in the shadow of a building as the rain began to fall, faint mist brushing their skin. Feliciano opened the glitter and ran his fingers through it and reached out. Ludwig went still, and smiled, and closed his eyes.

Feliciano outlined him like he had painted so many times, the proud set of his jaw and the swoop of his cheekbones and the curve of his brow and then across his eyelids until the gold glitter sparkled in Ludwig's eyelashes, and he opened his eyes and looked so beautiful Feliciano couldn't speak.

'My turn,' Ludwig said, and Feliciano closed his eyes and gave himself over, humming down to his bones, like a single touch would shatter him to stardust. Ludwig touched him like he was precious, drawing spools of gold down to his collarbones and Feliciano gasped when Ludwig kissed him, eyes flying open, hands tangling in blond hair.

'I love you,' Ludwig said, and Feliciano kissed him again and the sob caught in his throat-this was so _much_ and so _good_ and Ludwig's soft worried question of his name made Feliciano assure him it was fine, and he said it back, _I love you, Ludwig, love you_ , lightheaded and punch-drunk and more alive than he'd ever been before.

Feliciano had never kissed anyone like this before. There was nobody _like_ Ludwig, with his bluer-than-blue eyes and his quiet strength and _God_ , the way he kept saying his name, like a prayer against his skin, and Feliciano knew his thoughts were blown to supernovas and he was saying things he could hardly understand, tears and glitter shining in his eyelashes, and this was the entire world, them together, and Feliciano called him _golden boy_ and his laugh was breathless and overwhelmed and worth every second of doubt.

The night was of warm rain and running through the open doors of the city that screamed in rage and exhilaration, because they were allowed, for one night, to be themselves. The clubs were bright and loud and Feliciano only remembered snapshots with a clarity, like he'd gotten drunk off the emotions surrounding him. He wondered how they looked, how he'd paint themselves.

Him with flowers braided in his auburn hair, with gold bright eyes, lit up like a young god, like nothing else matters. Weaving through the dance floor, looking for blond hair, for blue eyes red-purple-green in this psychedelic light.

Ludwig with glitter smeared over his skin, laughing through the painful guilt of pushing off the old coat of fear as the music spilled through his skin and bones and out onto the street and further. The entire city seemed like it was roaring, the entire city was in death throes of glowing, glistening, guilty exhilaration.

Feliciano caught Ludwig's hands in the middle of the pulsing, roaring, bright-and-dark floor. It was not a dance-not really-but it was movement, and movement was good-movement banished the thoughts and the fear, movement left no room for the guilt of being happy after the years of hiding.  
'How do you feel?' Feliciano asked, and Ludwig shook his head and accepted a drink, too far gone to ask if it wasn't alcoholic, since it probably was-and drained it. He shuddered, and smiled.

'I'm alive.' Ludwig left shining handprints over his shoulders, over his shirt, in his hair. Feliciano pulled out one of his flowers and tucked it in blond hair. His skin shone, angel-bright in gold glitter.

'I know,' Feliciano said, smiling because the world felt right for a moment, and Ludwig kissed him again.

0o0o0o

Francis had found them when the streets were almost too dark, running with the people holding signs, drunk off emotions and maybe alcohol, and took them back to the art store to clean off the glitter and gloss before driving them home. Ludwig was tired, but not in the sore kind of the way. He felt fulfilled. Francis was silent the whole ride home.

He let Feliciano go, staggering slightly in the dark, but grabbed Ludwig's arm. He looked pained.

'I'm sorry,' he said. Ludwig didn't understand.

Ludwig was hazy but more alert when he looked at his house. He remembered Gilbert's hair slicked back with water and wondered if he could run the tap without Vati hearing him.

Vati was sitting at the kitchen table. Ludwig forced himself to calmly fill a glass and sit down, trying not to slur his words or stagger.

'Were you downtown?' Vati asked. Ludwig noticed his glass was rattling against the table and his his hands in his lap.

'I was with Feliciano.'

'I know,' Vati said. 'Were you involved with that?' He took the remote and pointed. The shaky film from the news article flashed onto the screen, and for a second, Ludwig was beyond terrified they'd be shown and all his old fears would come back.

It wasn't him and Feliciano, laughing like they were immortal. It was Gilbert, always Gilbert, ripped jeans and band shirt, cigarette jacket and mussed hair, holding the hand of a man who's eyes were a shade of blue and purple that the TV could not show. Gilbert worked in black and white, always, and his eyes were blazing.

'No,' Ludwig said. 'We were down at the store.'

Vati said nothing. He continued to watch the broadcast. Ludwig felt sick. He quietly slipped out of his chair and tried to go upstairs, but he stayed on the stairs, waiting and listening to the news describe his brother as a queer and a dissident, never as who Ludwig thought he was-older brother, firebrand and fighter and role model until he wasn't.

He couldn't say how long it was until Gilbert slipped inside, but it was long enough for his insides to twist into knots and his panic to grow into a massive, silent monolith, waiting beyond the edge of this falsely calm shell. Until this was over. Until this was all finally over.

Gilbert looked at his grandfather, standing there like an angel, a study in extremes of how to live and die and rise. Sharp as words.

'If you'd denied it before, you can't now,' he said. 'Go ahead. Call me a fucking queer.'

'Are you drunk?' Vati asked, and Ludwig heard the same undercurrent of emotion.

'That doesn't change what I am,' Gilbert said. He filled a glass of water the same as Ludwig, like he'd rather feel the shock of it. Like he'd rather Vati screamed instead of being like this. He drained the glass, fingers tapping like he wished it were full of alcohol.

'The man who's hand you were holding-'

'Roderich,' Gilbert interrupted.

'Your musician. His career is over. You've ruined it.'

Gilbert flinched at that, but turned away and refilled his glass, swirling it around the edges. Gilbert was a hurricane, a purely destructive force that was beautiful in its own way. He wasn't used to having to deal with the aftermath of a storm bigger than he was.

'You choose this, then,' Vati said.

'Already have,' Gilbert replied. A long, long silence.

'Get out,' Vati said. Gilbert froze. Ludwig felt like the argument in Berlin, in the rafters, the panic in his throat, in his ribs, _this couldn't be happening he had until January to lose his big brother._

'You can't.'

'I gave you more chances than you deserved,' Aldrich said. Gilbert was backing away, a cornered animal trying to run. 'You're hurting Ludwig by doing this. You're hurting everyone else. I can't let you do that.'

'So all that talk about change was nothing?' Gilbert asked desperately.

'You never would have changed.'

'I can't change this.'

'I did,' Aldrich said, and his voice cracked. Gilbert went still.

'You-you were like...? We're the same?'

'We are not the same,' Aldrich said. Gilbert reached out, desperate, maybe for this saving grace, maybe for some sort of connection.

'You understand, Vati. Listen to me, he was-he's _beautiful_.' The raw emotion in his voice broke, and Ludwig was curling into himself, silent sobs wracking through him. There was too much to feel and so he felt nothing, and watched.

'Stop,' Aldrich said, sharply, but Gilbert didn't listen.

'You-you had someone, you know what it feels like.'

'Gilbert, _stop_ -'

Gilbert's hands on his grandfather's shoulders, his softness coming back too soon, too easy to forgive when he shouldn't.

'Please,' Gilbert whispered, tears threatening to spill. 'Things are different now. It's okay.'

'The man I loved is dying from the same thing you tested for,' Aldrich said, and his voice was such a shattered mess of venom and sorrow that Gilbert jerked back like he'd been burned.

'Get out,' Vati said again, and Gilbert stumbled back, reaching out, before he stopped. Defeated, and the sight of his brother giving up settled into Ludwig's bones like pure fear. It was wrong.

'Can I go get my stuff?' he asked, and his voice was subdued. Vati nodded once, and turned away. Gilbert walked up the stairs. Ludwig hid in the corner of the hall and watched Gilbert pull a pack of clothes from beneath his bed, and add his flute, the Polari letters from Roderich, a notebook or two, sheet music, and after a long moment, a framed photograph Ludwig recognized as being of himself. He unlocked his birdcage, whistled softly to Gilbird, and settled him in his hair.

Gilbert slid his backpack on and walked down the stairs without looking back. He had his hand on the doorknob when Ludwig snapped out of his useless paralyzing fear and raced down.

'Wait, Gilbert-' His throat was dry but his vision was blurry and he couldn't breathe. This wasn't how it was supposed to have gone. Gilbert was supposed to have stayed, to pretend to change but let Ludwig in on some wonderful kind of secret about dual lives, and still be firebrand and wonderful and here, taking care of him.

Gilbert was never have supposed to leave, not in all those conversations, because a world without Gilbert was empty on one side. Ludwig didn't know life without his big brother.

Ludwig grabbed the tail of his jacket with the inner pocket for records and music and cigarettes and Gilbert turned in surprise, hands coming up to cup his face.

'Baby brother, what are you doing up?' he asked, voice so soft, so gentle, but if Gilbert cared he would have fought harder. He would have stayed. Ludwig tried to say that, but all that came out was a small, choked noise, a _please don't leave_ that didn't make it past thought, and Gilbert held him close and stroked his messy hair and told him it was okay, when nothing was.

Ludwig stopped crying because he was empty. There was nothing left inside of him. Gilbert let go.

Ludwig looked up and saw their years, all the arguments and the sharpness and the way his brother broke things and put them back together imperfectly and if he left, half the world would fall away, that world built on promises and harsh emotions, Gilbert calling him _baby brother_ when he was too old for it and that he knew Ludwig was _like that_ and their last words, pushing at each other over this, the fact that people find things beautiful as easily as they breathe but only sometimes is that okay, all in the grip of his shaking teenager hands.

Gilbert took his hands and pried them away and without saying goodbye, opened the door and stepped out and walked and kept walking. His hair shone in the glare of the streetlights. He didn't look back.

'Go to sleep, Ludwig,' Aldrich said from behind him. Ludwig stumbled upstairs and fell asleep and did not dream.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I promise there will be happiness at the end.**

 ** _:: The look in someone's eyes after an event that shapes them_**


	27. Chapter 27

**People sometimes hold onto the past, better times longer than they would admit.**

 **0o0o0o**

Ludwig didn't want to wake up. He lay in bed, sunlight painting red onto his eyelids, trying to hold onto the gauze of sleep before he had to face a world without his big brother.

Last night felt like a dream now, a nightmare, except when Ludwig finally opened his eyes, the house was silent and still and devoid of what it needed.

Ludwig felt like his bones were filled with lead. Gilbert would come in soon enough, telling him that there were pancakes and it was time to get up and _live_ and _Ludwig couldn't do this_.

Ludwig lay there, staring at the ceiling, filled with a kind of pain so heavy it made even thinking impossible. Eventually, there was a knock at the door. Gilbert barely ever knocked.

'Come in,' Ludwig heard himself say, as if from a distance. His voice sounded too flat and calm to belong to him anymore. Vati opened the door.

'I'm sorry,' he said. Ludwig pushed himself up on his elbows, squinting into the too-bright sunlight. Everything hurt, but especially his head. It would be easy to blame Vati for this. It would be easier to blame Gilbert, but the only person Ludwig blamed in the end was himself.

Antonio had said Gilbert stayed for him, and then something changed and it hadn't been enough.

There was a pressure building in his chest, the kind that never unraveled and only came out with raging, screaming fury. His voice came out calm again.

'I'll make breakfast.'

'It's already done.' Vati looked almost fearful for once, and he came closer slowly, like he could feel the wounded, pained thing that had replaced Ludwig's heart, and when Ludwig didn't protest, sat down on the bed.

'Are you angry?' he asked. Ludwig didn't know. He shook his head. Vati looked him over, taking in how he'd grown like he had not for too long. 'You should be,' he said finally. 'For us always arguing.'

'I used to be,' Ludwig said, and Vati almost flinched. He shut his eyes against the sun, his headache sharpening to a dagger point. 'I-I want to go eat something.'

Vati looked like he wanted to push the issue, but he backed away, lingering at the door before he disappeared down the stairs.

Breakfast tasted good until Ludwig tried to remember if he knew how to cook things like this and all he could think of was Gilbert grinning and sneaking bits of bacon to his canary, and then everything tasted like dust.

His headache was getting worse, and he was dizzy, and Ludwig wondered if he had a hangover. The thought came unbidden that he could have asked Gilbert on how to help with that, and Ludwig clenched his hands on the edge of the table with the burst of fury that shot through him-fury that wasn't directed at Gilbert, but more at himself, bitter and full of blame.

Vati was looking concernedly at him, and Ludwig loosened his grip and tried to explain.

'I have a headache,' he said. 'And my head feels fuzzy.'

Vati looked like he understood, and gave him a cup of tea. Ludwig had a feeling he knew it wasn't a normal headache. As bad as the faint hangover was, Ludwig half-wanted the bubbling happiness that had come from the drinking, mixed with the headiness of Feliciano's hand in his and his mouth and-

Thinking of that was too complicated right now and so Ludwig focused on his food instead and tried to think of nothing.

The calendar said it was Monday, and so Ludwig had to go to school without his big brother. He moved mechanically, finding clothes, working out until his arms burned, some naive part of him still in denial, thinking Gilbert would come back at school. The only time he felt present was when he looked up into the mirror and saw he'd pushed his hair back like Vati, and he was about to undo it when he remembered Gilbert ruffling his hair with his indulgent only-for-him laugh and whether it was spite or pain that sparked through him, Ludwig couldn't tell, but he left his hair up.

Ludwig wondered if people would talk about Gilbert leaving, but he remembered almost disgustedly that it was _normal_ for Gilbert to run away. Everyone would only talk if Gilbert didn't come back after a few days. Still, when he walked, people stared, and moved out of the way, and Ludwig thought about becoming just as sharp as his brother so people would never ask where he had went.

Ludwig spent lunch near the bleachers, hoping for a hint of white hair. He saw nothing, and so he walked home alone, and that was okay, because Gilbert could still come back, and life would go back to normal. Normal with arguments and fear and everything else, and Ludwig felt a flare of anger at how Gilbert could _do_ that, how he could make everyone else depend on his firebrand smile and use that to play every game by his own rules.

The house was too silent in the afternoons. There was a gaping hole torn out of life and all that was left was an empty room.

Ludwig couldn't concentrate, and so he eased open the door of his brother's room, wondering if there was some sort of hint to anything that would make this all okay. He moved automatically to the bed, feeling underneath for a shoebox. There were two. One was filled with sheet music and books, books that taught Polari and how to tell if someone else was like you. There were 'codes' about earrings and phrases and nicknames, and Ludwig found himself curled against the bed, drinking in the knowledge that there was a whole _world_ of this, that they weren't alone, weren't anomalies. It felt like Gilbert was chuckling against his hair, helping him turn the pages, telling him to _look, baby brother, look at our history_.

Except their own history was that Gilbert was gone, and Ludwig felt suddenly cold and closed the book.

The second box was taped shut and shoved in the back. Ludwig had to find his pocketknife with the name he wanted to scratch out of the handle to slice it open, and inside were dozens of diaries. Ludwig picked up one and flipped it open. It was dated to when they still lived in Berlin, and penned in a childish scribble.

 _Dear diary,_

 _Ludwig is doing really well in school and Vati says he can probably apply for a better school in Russia once he graduates._

 _I don't want him to go so far away, but he'll be good there, and besides, I can tell everyone my baby brother is studying awesome important things_.

Ludwig's throat felt thick, and he closed the book. He searched for a more recent one. The last one was only half-completed, with half the pages still pristine. The desperation was bookmarked with a glossy strip of paper. The last entry was in a shaky scrawl.

 _Dear diary,_

 _I'm going downtown on Sunday and Roddy wants to come with me. I told him not to be stupid. He's going to lose his job. He didn't listen and I can't let him run off by himself, so I have to take him_.

 _He says it's partially my fault for being so loud about this. I know I shouldn't be. I know, but all that flies out of my head when I think about how people can hurt him, or Ludwig_.

 _Ludwig still thinks I don't know how deep in he is. He doesn't understand how people get hurt this way, but he's so young and so head over heels, and Feli is so good for him. I'm happy for them, really, but I should be the one who is making Ludwig feel better, not sending him into this._

 _He thinks the worst thing that can happen is you losing your job or something, he's so drunk on love. I wish I was still like that_.

Ludwig closed the diary, feeling worse. Gilbert was an enigma the further he went, the most secretive person Ludwig knew. Ludwig couldn't even keep his thing with Feliciano secret.

He picked up the bookmark, hoping to put the diary back how it was-just in case-and noticed the lettering on it.

 _The Homosexual Virus - Punishment From God?_

Ludwig's thoughts locked, and he stared, like the red lettering was a Red Army officer, paralyzed with instinctual fear. The bookmark, which Ludwig now realized was a pamphlet, was covered in blue scribbles.

The booklet pointed out cases of previously healthy gay men with unusually aggressive diseases that often proved fatal. It attributed these deaths to God, to some idea of punishment for simply being themselves. Gilbert's notes covered the margins, disputing the punishment, self-assured and confident on the surface with an obvious tone of fear underneath. When the pamphlet began to shout about how _anyone_ gay could have it, how the virus infected people, how they died, Gilbert only had one legible note among the responses scribbled out and rewritten over and over. Like Feliciano trying to end a letter, but there was no _love_ here.

 _Get tested_

Ludwig felt cold down to his bones, like ice water ran through his veins instead of blood. Like he'd cut open on these sharp, accusing words and spill out icicles.

He carefully put the pamphlet back, hands moving on autopilot, and finally went back to his room and opened the window. The cool air was nice on his face, and if he looked down, regular fear jolted him out of his numbness and terror for a second. He needed to keep moving because if he stopped for a second he would never move again. The weight of Gilbert's decisions fell on his shoulders like stones.

He should talk to Feliciano, because Feliciano would understand all of this and he was probably worried, and all of that just made that snarl of pressure in his chest grow to breaking point, and before Ludwig realized what he was doing, he was on the ground and there was a moment of clear _fury_ before he slammed his fist into the wall. He understood why Francis had done it-it was when you could not fix an unfixable thing. Agony licked lines up his veins in fire-coloured streaks but he didn't _care_ , he didn't care about anything except that his brother was gone. Ludwig couldn't breathe or think or do anything but try to feel over and over again this horrible, horrible pain.

Maybe he was roaring some incomprehensible word which was a plea and a furious scream and everything he'd ever not said, like _stop fighting_ and _I want to leave_ and _do you know the world is not entirely yours_ and _I loved before you told me how_ , but it didn't matter because Vati was out looking like always and Gilbert would never listen.

' _Ludwig!_ '

Hands around his chest and Feliciano was surprisingly strong in his panic, dragging him back to lay, panting and exhausted, in the grass. Ludwig lay staring up into the blue sky, drained of everything. Feliciano was half-propped over him, his beautiful golden eyes shining with tears that spilled over his eyelashes. Ludwig tried to reach up and brush them away, but Feliciano held his arm down.

'Don't-' Feliciano was shaking now, shaking his head, body trembling. 'Don't do things like that. Ever. _Ever!_ '

'I'm sorry, Feliciano,' Ludwig said, and his voice finally matched the brokenness left behind where the false calmness had been-rough and cracking over the syllables of his name. His hands felt like they were broken.

Feliciano shook his head again, his words coming out a choked mess, and bent down and pressed their mouths together. Ludwig came up to hold him in surprise, and Feliciano let him.

When they stopped, Feliciano had a smear of blood on his cheek, and when Ludwig leaned up to wipe it away, Feliciano grabbed his hand.

'Promise me you'll never do that again,' he whispered.

'I won't, Feliciano, it was just-' Ludwig had no explanations. He'd acted on impulse and fury and paid for it. 'I wasn't thinking. I won't, I promise.'

'I know.' Feliciano wiped at his face and sat up, pulling Ludwig further into the backyard. 'I heard...I heard what happened yesterday.'

'Gilbert left,' Ludwig echoed. He leaned closer, willing to let himself have this. 'Don't apologize.'

'Fine, but-' Feliciano took his hand, wincing at the scrapes and cuts. 'Oh, Ludwig.'

'I'll pay the price tomorrow,' Ludwig said. 'It was because of Gilbert, by the way. This.'

'He'll come back,' Feliciano said, and gently squeezed his hand, but there was a fear in his eyes he couldn't hide because Feliciano's emotions were written on his face like purple cursive script, and Ludwig raised a hand to his face and tried to feel if he was grimacing or frowning or anything, but he was still just drained. The only point of him that was warm and feeling was where Feliciano's hand was in his.

Ludwig nodded because it was the right thing to do, but what Feliciano didn't know was that Gilbert chose his pride first and everything else later, and Ludwig hadn't told him about Antonio and probably never would because it was too painful now that Gilbert hadn't stayed for him.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Arrogance is not always obvious. Sometimes, it is people making decisions for everyone based on their experience.**

 ** _:: Watching the sunset before going back inside and finding it too dark_**


	28. Chapter 28

**I'm quite invested in this city now.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano had seen too many people hopeless. Lovino fought like a cornered animal, Nonno went quiet, halfheartedly searching for solutions, but Ludwig…

Feliciano shivered. Ludwig knew Gilbert wasn't coming back. They both did, and Ludwig when he was hopeless was angry and hurt and turned on himself and Feliciano never wanted him to be hopeless again.

Some part of him wondered if it wouldn't be better to let Gilbert go. His arguments tore Ludwig apart, but when he was gone, Ludwig didn't know what to do. Feliciano didn't know how to fix things that kept breaking like this.

The image of bloody knuckles tumbled through his head again, and Feliciano closed his eyes. Ludwig was more like his brother than he knew. He had the same furious kind of power in their raw emotions that only ended up hurting everyone. Ludwig had been keeping his feelings closed off for too long-everyone like them had to, to a certain extent, but he didn't seem like he wanted to ever let himself feel. Now more than ever, he was locking himself down like it was a weakness to feel. Because he wanted to be strong, but also because of sharp words that could not be taken back, words that carved themselves into the softness of their untried hearts and stayed there.

Ludwig wanted to hide in himself, in the sharpness settling into his eyes and the angle of his jaw and the way he cut inscrutable glances at people to hide his pain, but behind all the defenses was someone who loved things like drawing and rain and dogs and had a shy, delighted smile and who Feliciano loved, deeply. He wasn't going to let Ludwig disappear. He would let him have his days alone, let him grieve for now, but not forever.

But Feliciano needed a break at home. Lovino was fuming, bitter anger covering up the panic everyone was feeling. Nonno wasn't getting better. He was getting worse, much worse, much too fast.

He looked thirty years older, gaunt and thin, when Feliciano sat down for breakfast.

'Feliciano!' His smile was a thin, fearful veneer. His hands clenched in the tablecloth. He hadn't touched his food, but his voice was urgent underneath the false cheer. 'Did I tell you about my wife?'

'A long time ago-'

'You should know,' Nonno rushed. 'Her name is Felicia. We named you after her.'

'Why did we never know her?' Lovino demanded, walking in. He glanced at the table and did not sit down. 'Why did we never have anyone? Our father-he was in the war, you told us, and our mother…'

He went silent, and Feliciano stared at his hands. They never talked about their mother. She'd never recovered from the shock of losing her husband, and her second pregnancy was too much for her.

'You always sound fond about your wife,' Lovino continued, more subdued now, voice rough with the effort of holding back tears. 'Why didn't she help raise us before she died?'

'She's not dead,' Nonno said quietly. Lovino paused.

'She's still alive? Where is she?'

'Europe.' Nonno half-shrugged, and Feliciano saw his eyes clouding with tears. 'Florence.'

Lovino's mouth worked silently before he exploded. 'She left you? _You let her leave us?_ Unless you never told her you had two grandsons, which I don't put past you.'

'She knows,' Nonno said. His tears were shimmering on his eyelashes and his voice was shaking with the effort. 'Lovino, Feliciano, please. I just want you to know about her. Just in case. We had our-our reasons to separate.'

'They weren't good enough,' Lovino spat, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. Nonno put down his fork and closed his eyes to murmur a prayer. His hands were trembling.

'What is she like?' Feliciano asked, unsure if he should pursue this fresh wound. Nonno took a long time answering.

'You have her hair and her laugh. Lovi has her eyes and her fire. I fell in love with all of that, and I see it in you both every day.' He took a deep breath and smiled, the action painfully pulling at the redness surrounding his mouth and nose, a heartbreaking kind of pride reflecting in his eyes. 'You two might go visit her one day.'

'And you too?'

'No.' Nonno chuckled, and the effort made him wince. 'I said I wouldn't be going back to Europe.'

Something wasn't lining up like it should, and dread was slowly building in Feliciano's stomach. 'Nonno-'

'Not right now, Feliciano,' Nonno said. 'Please. I-I need to go talk to your brother.'

With an effort, he stood, looking so frail Feliciano jumped up to help him, but Nonno waved him away and limped into the hallway.

Feliciano only caught pieces of their conversation, and it was all accusatory words and pleads for understanding. Feliciano caught a glimpse of his grandfather's face through the door, lined and ancient and beyond exhausted. He slumped down in a chair and closed his eyes.

Feliciano brought over his plate, still unsure of every movement. Nonno groaned, one of his eyes barely opening to look out at him.

'Thank you, Feliciano,' he croaked. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?'

Roma laughed and jerked his head weakly in the direction of Ludwig's house. His breath was a rasp. 'Him. It's his fault, why I never made it with Felicia.'

Feliciano wanted to ask more, but Nonno shook his head and started eating. Feliciano went upstairs.

Lovino was feeding papers into the fax machine. When Feliciano gently pushed open the door, he shoved the papers underneath his books.

'You should knock, Feliciano,' he said. His face was red.

'Nonno said you have her eyes.' He hesitated, not sure if the next would bring on their grandmother's temper. 'And her fire.'

Lovino stared at him for a long moment before he sighed and stood up to-maybe ruffle his hair, but with a start, they both realized Feliciano was almost as tall as him now, and his hand paused inches from his hair.

'I can blame her for my temper, at least,' he muttered, staring less at Feliciano than through him, thinking of his own secrets. 'And Antonio said he liked my-' He stopped suddenly, scowling, but there was no real venom in it.

'Is that who you're talking to?' Feliciano asked, nodding to the fax machine, smiling despite himself. 'Antonio?'

Lovino was still for a second, thinking, before he abruptly turned back to the machine. 'Yes.'

Feliciano waited by the door, tipping back and forth on his feet about whether to leave or not. Lovino scoffed and jerked his head at the spot beside him. His scowl was slowly turning into a smile he couldn't hold back. 'Well? You've been badgering me long enough about him. Come see.'

For the first time in what had been too long, Feliciano was delighted. He took the few faxes Lovino handed him and looked through the letters so obviously adoring, promising the whole world, planning for car rides and secrets mixed with inquiries about how Lovino liked his books-and his new tattoo; Feliciano didn't know Antonio had a tattoo on his _hip_ , and what was this about Lovino getting to see it close up-

Lovino snatched the letter out of his hand and shoved another one at him, ears flaming red. Feliciano giggled, his own face feeling hot. He felt guilty, somewhere deep down, about being so happy, but he needed it. Being happy was okay for now, especially with his older brother. They'd sent so long keeping secrets and dealing with their own lives they'd forgotten each other.

For a moment, Feliciano could forget the world that had too much hate and not enough love declarations, and the sharp edges of everything that had happened recently were bundled away, and all that mattered was how happy Lovino looked cradling those precious words in his hands.

Feliciano almost forgot Nonno until he heard the crash.

Lovino went white. He dropped the papers and grabbed Feliciano's hand, pulling him downstairs, stumbling on the stairs. The blood was rushing in Feliciano's ears, blocking out everything except Lovino shouting, sounding finally terrified, letting go of his hand to kneel over Nonno groaning on the floor. The blood staining his teeth matched the sores on his mouth. Feliciano swayed on his feet, feeling like he might fall, too, but that was ridiculous, because he'd already fallen for so many things, like painting and flowers and beautiful blue eyes, but the pillars of his life were not supposed to fall like this.

Lovino was shouting for someone to _stay with him_ , and Feliciano's head was a rush of blue and furious, frightened hazel eyes shouting that it all had to _stop_.

Nonno was shouting, crying, _Lovino, please_ , and Lovino was screaming back that Nonno had the signs for ages, he just hadn't realized. He'd been stupid, but he'd _thought_ , because of all his talk that it wasn't _right_. And how none of anything mattered anymore, because Lovino couldn't drive to the hospital like this.

Feliciano did the only thing he knew how. He ran, and then there was the rough wood of a door under his hands and Aldrich opened it instantly and Feliciano stared into the eyes of the person who had almost ruined Ludwig and choked out he needed help, that his grandfather was sick or dying and they needed to get to the hospital.

Feliciano didn't remember much after that.

0o0o0o

The new folder lay on his bed. Feliciano didn't want to touch it or open it or even think of it, but it lay there, an ugly slash in the painting of his life.

Feliciano had been left behind, watching the car drive off, left knowing his grandfather would come back changed forever if he did at all. That this had been happening for ages, and Feliciano had let it. He'd gone back into his house and stuffed a pillow in his mouth and screamed, punching his bed until someone pulled him away he collapsed into a gentle circle of arms. He remembered only one thing clearly-a snapshot, like that one night, but the only constant between that golden night and this hell was Ludwig's touch holding him to reality, of a voice holding back its own pain to help him through his.

He woke up feeling heavier than stone. Ludwig was gently stroking his hair, and looked down at the way Feliciano was half-curled over his lap, tears staining his shirt. He brushed his tears away.

'Vati came back a while ago,' he said, voice scratchy, gesturing at the folder. 'He brought you this.'

Feliciano didn't want to open it. It was the test results, the ones from the doctor's offices that fired you if you had this. But with the soft press of Ludwig's hand against his, he could have the courage to reach forward knowing what the verdict was already.

The sheet was nearly bare except for the words that said Feliciano's grandfather was soon to be dead. The words were burning into his mind, erasing everything. Another scream was working up through his throat. Ludwig tugged it from his hands.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'Don't apolo-' Feliciano couldn't make it through the word. He crumpled in, sobs wracking his body. Ludwig pulled him closer. He had no useless comforting words to fix this, but he said his name like a prayer, and Feliciano took a deep breath and let Ludwig hold him. There was nothing to say. This was the kind of unfixable thing that drove people to helplessness.

'Where's your…' Feliciano couldn't bring himself to say the word.

'Vati is back at the hospital. With him.'

'Pleass stay here tonight,' Feliciano rasped. He was beyond everything now, so drained and exhausted all he felt was numb. 'Lovino's gone. I don't think he's going to come back.'

Ludwig didn't protest, and settled in beside him.

'How do you say sorry for all of this?' Ludwig asked quietly.

' _Scusa per tutto questo_ ,' Feliciano answered automatically. He knew it wasn't what Ludwig meant, but he couldn't feel anything more than tired. When he was hopeless, he gave up.

Feliciano fell back asleep and did not dream.

 **0o0o0o**

 **There are still stories untold about every person.**

 ** _:: Campfires burning low late at night_**


	29. Chapter 29

**After this, things will get better.**

 **0o0o0o**

Antonio had come sometime when he was sleeping. Feliciano woke up long enough to ask him where Lovino was. Antonio had just shook his head, limp curls flopping, cheeks and eyes hollow. He put a fork in Feliciano's hand and food in front of him what must have been several times a day, if Feliciano could make sense of time anymore. Sometimes he ate. Sometimes he didn't. He followed the instructions to sleep and brush his hair and teeth and shower robotically. He slept, and sat silently with Ludwig, who appeared and disappeared like he was the pale ghost of his brother, and waited. There was nothing but the waiting and the grey nothingness of pain.

'I want to go visit him,' Feliciano said one day, and was shocked at how raspy his voice was. Antonio knelt down beside him. His eyes were sunken and shadowed, and when he tried to force a smile, it came out a grimace.

'Not right now.'

'I want to,' Feliciano repeated. 'I deserve to, I'm his grandson. This isn't fair.'

'None of this was ever fair, Feliciano.' Antonio looked old, older than his years. 'People let this happen. People cheered this. The kind of life we have to live-loving truly only in the shadows and under different names-that kind of life was never fair, and that life will be the one we live for a long time yet.'

Feliciano didn't say anything. Antonio hovered like he wanted to say something more, and he reached out like he was about to ruffle his hair, but he thought better of it and left him alone.

One day, Antonio woke him up and told him they were allowed to go in. Feliciano didn't feel the relief he expected, or even the anticipation. He left a note on his window since he hadn't seen Ludwig in a few meals and went to clean up.

He met the eyes of his reflection in the mirror and the sight shocked him out of the grey weight on his shoulders. His reflection wasn't as gaunt as Antonio, but it's eyes were dull and unrecognizable. Feliciano took a deep breath and ducked his head in the sink, the freezing water dragging him back into reality. When he came back up, his reflection's face was redder with cold, and maybe his eyes were more aware. It was enough for now.

The car ride was too long and not long enough, but definitely long enough for Feliciano to see that the world was carrying on, as bright as ever. Antonio's words about not being fair echoed in his head again.

Antonio led him into the hospital with a few words at the nurses and stopped outside a simple door in a back wing, tucked away from the rest. Because this virus was something people got fired over. The kind people died from, and yet it was seen as acceptable simply because of who they found beautiful. Antonio's hand was gripping his shoulder like he was thinking the same thing.

'Feliciano,' he said, and his voice caught.

'Has Lovino been here?' Feliciano asked. Antonio's eyes shone with tears.

'I...I don't know, Feliciano, just be careful. Be gentle with him.'

Feliciano had always been too gentle, but right now he does not know if he can find it in him when he was already looking for so much gentleness himself.

The door opened. Feliciano stepped in.

'I need to go home,' the gaunt man in the bed was insisting, making a move to sit up. One of his nurses pushed him back down, and the man looked at them, brows furrowing in anger at his helplessness. Feliciano knew the look-it was the one people wore when they argued.

'You can't, you're in no state to-'

'My grandsons need me- _Feliciano!_ ' The man locked eyes with Feliciano, and the nurse held him back. Feliciano rushed forward.

'Nonno-' The emotion that had been building up since Feliciano's world started collapsing burst out of him, rendering his pleas and explanations and demands for both into a choking, screaming horrible noise that didn't stop until the nurses let go and Feliciano was grasping bone-thin fingers in his.

'Feliciano, you came,' Roma said, eyes spilling over, holding onto him like he was a lifeline.

'Lovi hasn't?' Feliciano asked, already fearing the knew the answer. His grandfather hesitated and shook his head.

'No. Not yet. But he will, he will.' Roma struggled further up, his tears rolling down his weathered cheeks. 'Feliciano, what can I say to you? I'm sorry.'

'I know,' Feliciano said. The words of forgiveness stuck in his throat. He would not say them now, not now. 'I-I have some things to tell you.'

Roma's eyes sharpened, like he knew, and he turned to the nurses, silencing the protests. 'Ten minutes. Ten minutes alone. Please.'

The word of a dying man carries much weight, and silently, the nurses withdrew out of earshot, keeping careful watch. Feliciano turned back to his grandfather, taking in the waxy cast of his skin and the sores around his mouth and the smell of the hospital that clung to him, so different than his normal spice from cooking. This disease stripped everything away.

'Please-' The pain was rising up his throat, catching on the broken edges of his world, choking off the future. There was nothing but the grey now, every second an eternity. His words were the whisper of a boy who just wanted something better than the hell that is now. 'Please don't get mad at me.'

'I would never,' Roma assured him, gently patting his hair, and Feliciano was so heavy with the weight of words and pain that he did nothing about it.

'How long have you had it?'

'Longer than you'd think.' Roma chuckled, but the action seemed to hurt him, and he winced. He wiped at his mouth with a tissue that came away red. 'I learned I might have it in Europe, and decided it would be best to move away for a while.'

'But-' All the words from the sermons about hate and sin flashed in front of him for a moment. 'But you're not-'

'This isn't about me, Feliciano. I have spent too long making things about myself. You wanted to tell me something.'

Feliciano swallowed the tears and the fear and the knowledge that past hopelessness was acceptance, which he didn't know if he would ever be able to find. How do you accept your world falling at the edges?

But he gathered his small, childish words and wants and closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the disappointment.

'Lovino's in love with Antonio.'

Instead of shouts, he received a soft, sad laugh, and a hand in his hair. 'Oh, Feliciano. I know. I knew from the moment Lovino set eyes on that boy that they would be in love.'

'You didn't want him to be,' Feliciano said. His voice sounded naive and unknowing. Lovino never would have told, but Feliciano thought their grandfather should know.

'No, I didn't. Antonio naturally loves as openly as I once did, and in the end, so does Lovino. Loving like that means you get hurt.'

'You hate it,' Feliciano tried again, but they both knew it wasn't true.

'No. I tried. I tried to hate it. It would be easier to have hated it.'

Feliciano took a deep breath and tried to make his voice steady and understand maybe this.

'You said not to talk about you, but I need to know. Were you...like that? Homosexual?'

Roma fixed him with the kind of gaze people have in war-steady and piercing. Finally, he said, 'I met a man before the war who I thought I understood. During the war, when he was on the opposite side, we met again. He was armed, I was not. Instead of killing me, he let me go. I never saw him again until I learned I had this disease. Then…' His shoulders rose and fell in the suggestion of a defeated shrug. There was the hint of a sad smile on his face. 'I decided to go see him one last time.'

Feliciano had nothing to say. The words that would make everything make sense would not come.

'You didn't make a good choice. He-he argued a lot. He hated people like that.'

'You don't choose who you love, Feliciano. And he was...different back then.'

'Where is he now?' he asked, barely daring. Roma turned to stare out the window, an expression of pain flickering over his face.

'They made him leave.'

The knowledge was the kind of thing that makes the world stop and start again, and Feliciano moved closer, trying to feel a hint of warmth, of the safety that would soon be gone.

'What about you?' Roma asked gently. Feliciano felt slack, released, the horrible pain having left him for just a moment. He could breathe in this respite, cradled in his grandfather's arms, holding onto childhood a few heartbeats more. He wanted to tell. He didn't want his grandfather to leave without knowing.

'I'm in love with Ludwig,' he said, so quietly he wasn't sure his grandfather heard. He did, and just nodded. A tear fell onto Feliciano's hair.

'I thought so.'

'We tried to hide it,' Feliciano said. His eyes were sliding shut. The world was slowing down for a moment, because for just once, Feliciano was safe from the world and the danger of being himself. 'But he's beautiful.'

'It's his eyes, isn't it?' Roma asked. 'Aldrich had the same when he was that age. The war changed them.'

Feliciano nodded. He was floating. He didn't want this moment to end.

'You look at him like he is the _world_ ,' Roma said sadly. 'And he looks at you the same way. I should have told you to watch out for boys with the sky in their eyes.'

'What do I do?' Feliciano asked. He needed a final instruction, something to build himself on. He couldn't be left alone, left without his grandfather. He needed a memory so he wouldn't be as scared.

'You don't do what I do. You don't fall in love and then war.' Roma stroked his hair. 'Remember me, but do not follow me. I am just a man who made the wrong decisions. Be happy. You are an incredible boy, Feliciano. I am proud that you are my grandson. I don't think I told you that enough.'

'You didn't,' Feliciano whispered, tears choking his throat, his silent scream stuck behind the wall of emotion. His hold was slipping and he would fall, but for now, he was suspended, holding on for these last few moments.

'Tell-tell Lovino that I am proud of him.' Roma's voice had dropped to a rasp again. He looked Feliciano in the eyes. _I am just a man_ , he had said, but he was also the cornerstone of Feliciano's life. The world could not go on without him, but it had to. Feliciano tasted salt and loss and all the things that would never happen. 'Tell him I said goodbye,' Roma finished, his tears barely hidden in his voice.

'Goodbye, Nonno,' Feliciano whispered, and Romulus Vargas held him close, whispering the apologies that had gone unsaid for too many years into his grandson's hair. They lay there in the hospital bed, and Feliciano listened to his grandfather's heartbeat and wondered how many more times it could be heard. He knew that this would be the last time for everything, and yet everything they needed to say would remain unsaid.

The world was not fair, how there was pain and fear and hate that made people silence love declarations and forgiveness before they were spoken. Feliciano was helpless against all of that, and all he could do was keep loving. And yet he could not form forgiveness. Not yet.

When he stepped away, it felt like a piece of his heart had been left behind. He thought he heard Roma say _I'm sorry_ , but he turned his tearstained face away and stared out the window. Feliciano touched his arm, words choked off, and left.

Antonio was waiting outside the door. Tears tracked down his cheeks. He silently led Feliciano back to the car. Feliciano didn't remember driving home, but standing in front of the house he had grown and loved in for the last few years, the relief came, if that was what it was called-the bittersweet pain and release racking out of him in sobs, in screams, demands of the world to change, to make things better. There was a hurt in him that took over everything, until all he could feel was loss. His grandfather was dying.

After that, all he remembered was being put to bed and dreaming of Nonno.

Two days later, Antonio got the phone call. When he picked up and listened, his face went blank with pain. He hung the phone back up and turned to Feliciano.

'I'm sorry,' he said, and that was the thing about Antonio, that he hurt for people even though he knew it was useless. Feliciano didn't know how it was possible to hurt so much, and how nothing made it better.

The world hadn't stopped like it was supposed to, and if all those poets and writers spoke about human grief moving empires and continents, why wasn't Feliciano's enough to make the world stop moving forward so quickly for just a second? Why was the world leaving him stuck in the antiseptic room with the blood sores and the guilt that had hung over them both like death's shroud?

If he'd just been braver or smarter, if he had just been _better_ , maybe Nonno could have been saved. Feliciano hadn't understood why Gilbert drank when he was hurting-what he'd had that one golden night that seemed so far away now had been nothing but pure dizzy energy in his veins-but he understood now. He wanted something to make the pain stop, to make it all stop for just a moment.

Ludwig let him cry, and even though they did not speak, they sat together until Feliciano fell asleep. Sometimes, the pain was less around him, and then more often than not, because Ludwig made him better. Feliciano said the first words after it to him- _Thank you_ -and slowly, slowly, began to speak again. The crushing weight was never gone, but sometimes it was less.

Lovino came back looking like he'd fought his own hell and lost. Feliciano didn't ask if he'd gone to see Nonno. He didn't want to know the answer. One day, Lovino touched him on the shoulder and said they were moving back to Europe. He looked exhausted and no longer angry. The news was a cold shock, jolting him out of the haze, making him remember that he could not keep ignoring time even if he still wanted the world to stop and let him catch him.

Feliciano waited for Ludwig to come back and told him.

'We're going back to Europe.'

'I...I thought you might be.' Ludwig looked like he didn't know what to say. Feliciano took his hand-what he hadn't done in weeks-and Ludwig looked down at it, shocked.

'I'm sorry, Ludwig.'

'Don't.' Ludwig hesitated and gently pulled him closer, mouth pressing at the back of his neck like it had so long ago. 'I love you, Feliciano.'

'I love you, too, Ludwig.' Feliciano squeezed his hand. Ludwig cupped his face, eyes searching, and slowly, slowly leaned in. Feliciano made a sound like a desperate laugh and a sob and curled a hand in his hair to pull him closer. The kiss tasted like salt and loss and promises, the kind of kiss that cannot be the last. When he pulled away, both held on, two people scared of what the world would do to them but still in love.

'I'll come back one day,' Feliciano promised. 'After all of this. When the world is better-or maybe when it's not completely better, so we can make it better. I want to show you Venice and maybe Florence. I want to show you the _world_.'

'I'd-I'd like that.' Ludwig turned away to brush at his eyes, reddening in the kind of way he did when he was angry at himself.

'You're allowed to cry,' Feliciano said. Ludwig shook his head incredulously, and Feliciano cut him off. 'You're allowed to hurt and love and feel everything, Ludwig.' He reached back and undid his slicked-back hair. Without it, Ludwig looked like he had been before he started trying to be strong in a way nobody was but he thought his brother could be. 'You don't need to be your brother.'

Ludwig's grip slackened in surprise, and Feliciano smiled for the first time in too long, tears turning his vision crystalline, making the sunset through the window a golden sunbeam settling on them both, writing love declarations on their bones.

' _Du bist wunderschön_ , Ludwig,' Feliciano said, closing his eyes, finally feeling safe in the curl of strong arms.

' _Sei bello_ , Feliciano,' Ludwig replied, tears at the edge of his voice, kissing his neck again. They stayed like that and nobody told them to stop, and so they fell asleep together.

0o0o0o

The grey moving truck was back. Lovino sat on the step and smoked, thin trails curling up between his fingers. Feliciano sat with Ludwig by the fence. His pageboy cap was crooked on his head. He spoke first.

'Ludwig? I just wanted to know if I could have that language map. If you still have it.'

'Oh.' Ludwig had wanted to keep it, but he nodded and went inside to get it. Feliciano took it, looking like he wanted to say something more but not sure how.

'My smock-you know, my paint smock-is too small,' he said after a moment, gesturing at himself. 'I finally outgrew it. It's been...a long time. Do you remember the apple tree?'

'I remember we met here,' Ludwig said, looking at the fence.

'I ran into you,' Feliciano agreed, but his slight smile disappeared when they remembered what had happened after. There was a silence that could not be entirely broken here, like the emptiness under Ludwig's chest that he felt when he realized Feliciano was going to be gone. The most confusing and wonderful person he'd ever met would be gone and Ludwig dug his nails into his palm until he hissed with the pain because he wasn't ready for it. He didn't know what to do.

Feliciano put a hand on his arm and Ludwig refused to meet his concerned look.

'Ludwig.'

'Don't worry about me, Feliciano.'

'Ludwig, I…' Feliciano made a soft noise. 'I don't want this to happen.'

'I don't, either.'

They cannot say more in front of everybody here, but Feliciano leaned in and under the pretense of fixing his hair, kisses his cheek. Ludwig turned into it and caught him half on the mouth. Feliciano did not protest. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

'I love you,' he whispered.

'I love you too,' Ludwig whispered back. Feliciano smiled, a terribly sad, soft thing, and backed away and spoke quietly with Lovino, and they both went back inside. Ludwig went back inside as well, past Vati, who had come back, and the silence where they'd accepted Gilbert wouldn't do the same, and stared at Feliciano's painting of him and thought about how much everything had changed.

They did not say anything more than goodbyes on the day the big grey moving truck pulled out. Lovino started the car and at the last moment, looked over at him. Ludwig thought he might look like he wanted to say something, but Lovino turned back around and shouted for Feliciano to hurry. Feliciano looked at him and just like the first time, his beautiful golden eyes made Ludwig feel alight and vulnerable and wonderful and right. He smiled like a promise, whispered sei bello, Ludwig, let go of his hand, and left.

Ludwig watched Feliciano disappear from his life and went back inside and thought of Gilbert's broken-wing drunkenness before he slept and dreamt of the heat of a hand and kiss.

0o0o0o

Two weeks later Ludwig was still walking around the emptiness where brightness and Feliciano had been. He was trying to be good, but one night he couldn't stand it.

His fear of falling from the roof was less than his wonder about Feliciano-what was he doing in Europe? Was he happy, was he thinking about him, was he kissing someone else?

Something bitter filled his mouth and Ludwig dropped to the ground, seeing the remains of cigarettes in the dewy grass. He unlocked the back door and wandered the garden in the moonlight. It was too empty. Life without Feliciano was too empty. He should be here among the stars and the cornflower blooms, talking about the constellations and grabbing his hand.

Ludwig missed Feliciano in the deep-set kind of aching way, where everything was a reminder. The kind of longing poets write about. He missed Gilbert, too, but he was able to step back from that, to think of his wildfire brother at a distance. Feliciano broke down all his boundaries and was everything he never expected. Feliciano had found his way into his heart and he'd taken part of it back to Europe with him.

Ludwig found himself climbing the apple tree. He settled close to the top, leaning back to stare at the moon. He closed his eyes, remembering the exact way Feliciano had laughed and looked at him and the curve of his shoulders and his eyes in the moonlight. Maybe one day he wouldn't be able to, but right now, it was like he was still here, which was what Ludwig needed.

Feliciano's old sword was leaning up against the tree, and when Ludwig climbed down to grab it, a piece of the tree shifted.

He froze until he realized what he'd grabbed. In the crook of the branches was wedged Feliciano's old paint smock. Ludwig pulled it out, already confused. In the front pocket, protected from rain, was a piece of paper folded into a tight square. Ludwig opened it. It was their old language map. On the back, in looping handwriting, was a letter.

' _Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.' -Henry James_

 _I found this quote in one of Lovi's books and I thought you'd like it. Gilbert was always better than either of us at writing but I still know what beauty is in words._

 _I'm not a sculptor or a poet either but I know you're beautiful and language is wonderful in having so many ways for me to tell you. I want to tell you everything about the future and how it will all be okay but I'm not even sure what I feel except that I really do love you and hope you remember me. However if you find a girl you like then go with her. Don't be unhappy because of me._

 _You don't have to be like Gilbert. I didn't fall in love with you for your brother. I fell in love with you because you're you and kind and your smile is incredible and you say my name in a way that makes me think of love letters and your eyes are very very blue and because you love me even when I'm scared of things and when I don't know what to do. You're amazing and I love you so so much._

 _I told you about the stars and the moon and how there are people all over the world looking at them and thinking they're beautiful, and even though they look the same in Italy, it won't be the same because you're not there beside me looking at them._

 _I already miss you sometimes._

 _Ti amo, Ludwig._

Ludwig stared at the words, at Feliciano's goodbye, and reread it until his eyes were spilling over with tears and turning the world silver and then he laughed, wild and relieved and pained, the kind of laugh that happens after battles and wars are won. He could imagine Feliciano writing this, imagining how he'd read it, whispering the words to himself.

Don't be unhappy because of me, Feliciano had written, and for a second Ludwig spun in the quiet of the moonlight, wielding the sword in the moves Gilbert had taught him on the kind of night where he'd fallen in love.

He took a cornflower and wore it behind his ear like he had on that golden night and after a moment, took the sword as well. He slept and for once woke up without feeling like he'd lost something.

 **0o0o0o**

 **The second part will be happier.**

 ** _:: Finding an old book you still love_**


	30. Chapter 30

**The second half will be calmer.**

 **0o0o0o**

Feliciano wasn't supposed to have come back to Italy without Ludwig. None of this was supposed to have happened like it did.

They stand there blinking in the sunlight of the living room with the taste of traveling still in their mouths. Feliciano didn't mean to clutch into Lovino's jacket, but he was too exhausted from everything and too scared to let go.

Felicia Vargas was tall with striking hazel eyes and auburn hair. Her profile was _Romantic_ , Nonno would have called it. Every time Feliciano thought of things like that, he felt like he wouldn't be able to speak ever again.

'I'm sorry,' was the first thing she said, and her voice held the tones of someone who was once a singer. 'I received the call yesterday.'

'The doctors knew you?' Lovino asked, voice dull with pain.

'Romulus gave them my number, apparently. I didn't know he still had it.' Her voice shook slightly with emotion. 'He told me your names were Feliciano and Lovino.'

'Why did we never know you?' Lovino asked bluntly. Felicia sighed and sat down in the armchair across from them. Feliciano let go of Lovino's jacket and slumped onto the couch. He could barely keep his eyes open. Lovino stood stiffly for a moment before he sat down as well.

'We separated on fairly good terms,' she explained. 'Considering...the reasons, we kept it at distant terms. I was surprised you were named after me, Feliciano. He only called me in passing about you two.'

'What did he say?' Lovino challenged. Felicia looked him in the eye evenly.

'He said he was proud of you both. That he was proud to watch you grow up. He loved you both, Lovino.'

Lovino didn't say anything. After a long silence, he gently picked Feliciano up. Feliciano was too drowsy to resist.

'Thank you,' Lovino said, sounding oddly vulnerable. 'He...he spoke fondly of you.'

Felicia didn't respond to that, but she led them down the hall to the bedrooms. Lovino put Feliciano in bed. His eyelids felt leaden, but he had the feeling Lovino was wondering if he was awake.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Lovino finally said, and disappeared. Felicia stayed a moment longer.

'I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through, Feliciano,' she said. Feliciano wanted to tell her something, anything, but he was too tired and it was easier just to lay still and let her smooth his sweat-spiked hair away from his face and leave.

Feliciano dreamt of Ludwig like he had when they'd first moved to America-in flashes of his eyes against the sky and the set of his shoulders. He fell asleep wondering if Ludwig had found his letter.

Life in Italy was not like he remembered. When he opened the window, there was the sun and the chatter of a language he'd missed near constantly except when it was being spoken in halting, accented tones, and a flower box beneath the windowsill but not what he needed.

Feliciano closed the window and went down for breakfast. Lovino hadn't come down yet.

'Feliciano?' his grandmother asked, testing the name. Feliciano nodded. He still didn't have any appetite for food. He felt heavy, pointlessly heavy.

'He named you after me.' She gave him a searching look. 'You didn't inherit any of my tendencies to love too freely, did you?'

Feliciano almost laughed, but it turned into a strange sob. Felicia's face instantly changed into pain, and she embraced him.

'No, don't worry-' Feliciano couldn't stop the images, the memories of people who loved too freely, of secrets spoken between two people scared to show love on summer afternoons. He didn't regret any of it. 'I did. I still do. Love too freely, that is.'

'Our family tends to do that,' she said. There was an undercurrent of question in her voice. Feliciano swallowed the lump in his throat and tried not to think of ruffled blond hair and bright blue sky eyes and his _voice_. 'Nonno-I mean, Roma, had a...friend called Aldrich.' He didn't know what he wanted to know anymore. It would be easier to stop having anything to do with the wound in his heart where his grandfather used to be, but he couldn't stop wondering. It was easier to hurt than to fall back into the endlessly grey, empty pain.

Felicia laughed tiredly, with a hint of long-ago memory. 'Aldrich Beilschmidt. I know him, yes. He had two grandsons, I believe. One of them got into some trouble in Berlin and they had to move.'

'Gilbert did,' Feliciano managed through the fist that was tightening around his chest. 'I was told by-' He couldn't say his name, he couldn't. 'Told by his younger brother. They were our neighbors.'

'Neighbors.' Felicia shook her head, a weary smile crossing her face. 'Oh, Romulus, you never knew how to let someone go, did you?'

'He told me about it,' Feliciano barely breathed. 'When he was-he told me he knew Aldrich.'

'They were always pushing each other,' Felicia said, looking far-away. 'Always daring, always challenging, never able to stop clashing.' Her eyes fixed on Feliciano, and he was struck again with how much they were like Lovino's, fiery and flashing and dark. 'It's not good to...be devoted to someone who you are always breakneck with. They need to also be there when life is slower. You need to know if it is simple infatuation or something more. People like that...they do not work out.'

'What if you find someone you think is something more?' Feliciano asked.

'You try to stay by them as long as you can. You live your life better with them. Sometimes, you cannot stay together.'

'That happened with Lovi and Antonio,' Feliciano said before he could stop himself. His grandmother paused and put down her coffee. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the pit in his stomach.

'Who is Antonio?'

'Someone we used to know,' Feliciano said weakly. 'It's nothing, please.'

Lovino still hadn't come down by the time Feliciano forced down some food. It tasted good, but he didn't feel like eating. The memory kept coming back of Antonio telling him in low tones to eat and keep going through with the motions even when Feliciano felt like there was no point when all of life was just this horrible waiting. He was still stuck in waiting, trying again and again to try to fix something that could not be fixed.

He went upstairs to go find Lovino. He knocked on the door and opened it when there was no response. Lovino was laying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. There were tear tracks on his cheeks. When Feliciano opened the door, he stirred, and hastily sat up and wiped off his face.

'You need to knock,' he accused. His voice cracked.

'I did.' Feliciano gestured downstairs. He felt heavy again. 'You haven't eaten breakfast yet.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'I wasn't either, but Antonio told me to eat after you left and-'

'Don't say his name,' Lovino interrupted. He was sitting rigidly. Lovino missed him, Feliciano knew, but his memory of those horrible last days were steeped in anger now.

'You left,' Feliciano accused. 'I know that you were hurting, and that you didn't know what to do, but I was hurting too. You weren't the only one, and you left me _alone_.' His voice broke, all the memories pouring through his feeble attempts to stop them from saturating out to the tips of his his fingers, and suddenly, suddenly, Feliciano understood with a fierceness how Ludwig had felt with Gilbert. 'I-I thought you were going to leave forever,' he whispered.

'I wouldn't have done that,' Lovino said, but Feliciano's words had stung him. He curled away, eyes flicking towards the window. His mouth twitched towards shame.

'I didn't know that,' Feliciano said. He let the rest of the sentence, the _after Gilbert left_ , hang in the air between them. Lovino flinched and broke their gaze. As much as he thought what had been happening with would be nothing but painful, he couldn't deny what Gilbert had caused.

'I won't leave again,' he said. 'I promise.'

'That's what Gilbert always promised. After he came back.'

Lovino turned away, staring out towards the busy street-life continuing, regardless of their pain. 'Sometimes-sometimes I thought Gilbert wasn't the only crazy bastard,' he murmured. 'All his talk about running away-I wouldn't have done it, I can at least remember I'm not the only person I'm my decisions affect sometimes. But I thought about it, Feliciano. I thought about running away with Antonio.'

'I think people like us have always dreamed of running away,' Feliciano said. Lovino made a sound, maybe a laugh, and finally swung his legs off the bed.

'I know. He was-you're right. I'll eat something.'

'Where did you go?' Feliciano asked. Lovino stopped. He shook his head and said nothing, and walked downstairs.

0o0o0o

Feliciano was getting used to Italy again, like it was a different coat he hadn't worn for years. The time hadn't lessened the ache for his grandfather or for Ludwig, but he threw himself back into art and talking to new people and wrapping himself in this old coat, like he was pretending that the last years had never happened even when they had left gold fingerprints and breaks on the inside of his rib cage. America and everything it was had carved a wound that wouldn't heal.

Feliciano talked to people and appreciated them if they were beautiful, but he didn't seem to fall in love so easily anymore. Deep down, he knew why. He was still dreaming of hot Southern evenings and the rumble of a voice when he laid his head against his chest. He appreciated from a distance and touched people only with fingertips. He had friendships, but he didn't let anyone as close as Ludwig had been, because Ludwig remade him with his emotions on display, made him vulnerable and touched him like he was precious and Feliciano didn't know if he could allow someone else that close lest he shatter.

There was church here, too, and at least the pastor didn't spit out the words like fire about sin and being wrong. He made allusions to it in passing. Feliciano had learned to ignore the twisting in his stomach when Felicia still looked approving of the words. He planted cornflowers in his window box and wore them on Sundays, and then he could ignore it better. The heaviness sometimes stayed for weeks and months, but sometimes it went away.

He hadn't told Lovino about what Nonno had said. Lovino still didn't look like he believed that Nonno was proud of him some days, and that was what pushed Feliciano to go talk to him.

'You shouldn't be touching my stuff,' Lovino said when he walked into the room, and Feliciano put down his book. They'd unpacked all of their belongings, and Lovino's old books were shoved far in the back where nobody could see them, but they were still here.

'Did you go visit Nonno?'

Lovino looked like he was about to argue, but he sighed and sat down. They both knew this had to happen.

'I almost did. I got all the way up to outside his room before I left. I spent three days trying to work up the courage to talk to him. I wrote him letters instead explaining...what I wanted him to know.'

'You didn't tell him about Antonio?' Feliciano already knew the answer. He felt suddenly sick.

'No, I-' Lovino stopped. 'Feliciano, why are you asking this?'

'I went to visit him,' Feliciano said, trying to make out in Lovino's carefully controlled expression when he was going to start yelling. 'I told him about Antonio. I told him about Ludwig, too, and Lovino, Nonno told me he's-'

' _You told him?_ ' Lovino spat. He looked animalistic, bared teeth and narrowed eyes. 'You-you don't get to do that, Feliciano. You don't get to decide who will or won't get hurt by that. You don't get to choose what needed to be my decision. It was my choice to tell him, Feliciano. You have _no right_ to take that away from me.'

'I had to. He deserved to know,' Feliciano begged. 'You said it yourself, you didn't see him, I wanted him to know, and-and Nonna might know- _you shouldn't hide this!_ '

'He said it was wrong,' Lovino said, disgust dripping off his tone. 'You-you told Nonna. I can't believe you.'

'No, he told me, and it was an accident I told her. He was _like us_ , Lovino,' Feliciano said desperately, clutching at his arm. Lovino shook him off. He was taller now, and stronger, and Feliciano was helpless to make him understand.

'No. No.' Lovino laughed derisively. 'He wasn't. I don't believe you. I can't believe any of this.'

'You have to, please, Lovi, you have to understand, he was proud of you-'

'I have to? Just like you had to tell him? Like you couldn't think before you talked?' Lovino asked. He looked half-deranged now. 'What you did was-it's not something I can forgive easily, Feliciano.' His voice shook. 'It's you who doesn't understand that people get hurt. People _die_ from this. He never believed me when I told him that I preferred men. She won't. I don't believe you or him now.'

He slammed the door behind him when he left. Feliciano sat on the bed, terrified, frozen for a long moment until he could stumble off to his own room.

Later that day when they were eating dinner and Lovino said, 'Nonna, I have something to tell you.'

Icy fear rushed into Feliciano's stomach. He knew what this was.

'Yes?'

'Lovi, don't. Please, I-' This was supposed to be on his terms if anything at all. He didn't even mean to let his grandmother know about Ludwig and everything else. It was _his_.

He understood too late what Lovino had meant. He was too late to change anything, and now all he could do was watch and feel a kind of hurt he didn't know existed.

'Aldrich Beilschmidt has two grandsons,' he said. 'Gilbert and Ludwig.'

'Lovino, you don't have to do this,' Feliciano begged. Felicia looked concernedly from one to the other.

'What is this, Feliciano?'

'He's-but I'm not-he's _lying_ ,' Feliciano finally managed, feeling panic close off his throat.

'Feliciano's in love with Ludwig,' Lovino said quietly, and Feliciano's voice broke into a sob and he turned and fled. He saw the look in his grandmother's eyes.

The house was silent in the way it was after arguments. Feliciano felt like a ghost, haunting the old house, drifting from place to place, still thinking of when he had lived. He always felt heavy now. Sometimes he caught Lovino staring at him, mouth open like he was about to say something, before he turned away.

Two weeks after that, Feliciano kissed a girl for the first time. She looked nothing like Ludwig. Feliciano met her after school drinking coffee and put on his best smile and laughed and did the things he noticed other boys doing, glancing at her wrist and chest and hip and she didn't tell him not to. She told him her name was Marianne and she was a kind of beautiful, with her long dark hair in red ribbons and soft tanned skin and her lovely luminous brown eyes. The problem was that Feliciano looked at her and thought of capturing her smile in paint, not of the soaring electric Ludwig had made him feel. Her beauty didn't knock open his heart the same way.

But they met in the park and when they touched hands, hers were softer and more nimble. When they kissed, there was no burning, dizzying want, just a kind of guilt and the taste of her strawberry chapstick. She kissed nothing like Ludwig-too unprepared, too unknowing-but when she moved closer her hand slid into his hair and cupped his head to move him closer and Feliciano dug his nails into his palms until they almost bled to stop himself from saying the wrong name.

They walked home together. Lovino saw him coming in with a girl. He was upstairs before Feliciano's grandmother answered the door. She looked them up and down and nodded, just slightly.

That night, Feliciano dreamed of Ludwig again. The way his hands had felt tugging on the loose ends of his hair, the hot press of his kiss to his neck, then their mouths fitting together, fire soaking up through his body, setting him alight, and Ludwig was talking, in German or Italian or something in between, rasping _sei bello_ and _du bist wunderschön_ and Feliciano _wanted_ this, and oh, this had to be a dream, but for now, for now-

He came down shaking from that dream and lay on his bed for a long, long time in the quiet dark of very early morning.

There was no more silence after that so long as Feliciano kept kissing girls. He did it. So did Lovino. Feliciano's dreams kept happening.

 **0o0o0o**

 **They still have a ways to go, but they're starting to figure out the world.**

 ** _:: Sleeping next to a fireplace_**


	31. Chapter 31

Nobody moved into the house beside his and Ludwig was glad. He wouldn't be able to look someone in the eye and know that they were stepping into a kind of play that had started so long ago, that they would have no idea about window meetings and art and the cornflowers struggling up in the backyard. Ludwig tried to take care of them, but he didn't know how, and he was always too rough with them. He left them alone after that, and a few still bloomed sometimes.

Life kept sliding onwards, and Ludwig kept his head down and studied. People never talked about Gilbert anymore. It was easier if they didn't, because it was almost like he had been some strange mirage in the heady hot weather before August storms, and all his wounds were scar tissue. Gilbert couldn't hurt him if he had never existed, Ludwig had thought, but he sometimes stared too long into the bathroom mirror and saw the shadow of red eyes and white hair grinning back. They looked more alike the older he got. Ludwig didn't tend to look at himself much after realizing that, and he always wore his hair up. His brother was gone and he wasn't going to come back, and Ludwig tried to live life without him by his principles of always being strong.

Not everything was perfect. Perfect would have been golden eyes and a laugh that made his chest tight and everything else that Feliciano Vargas was, but there were hundreds of miles between them and sometimes Ludwig lay awake at night watching the stars through his window and wondered if Feliciano was thinking of the distance, too, or if he was even thinking of him at all. Sometimes he thought of other things like the husky rasp of Feliciano's voice when he was tired and the soft noise he had made when Ludwig kissed his neck.

That kind of memory never hurt, not like his memories of Gilbert did. Feliciano never hurt him, but some places still rang with his touch. Ludwig stopped going to Francis' art store, and hid his drawings under textbooks. He still listened to the music, but only in private.

Antonio kept his promise to take care of him. He came by some weekends while Vati was away, but it was never for long. Antonio wasn't Gilbert, and they both knew it, but sometimes that was better. Antonio didn't run away. He sat and listened and didn't keep so many secrets. He tried to bring up the club where people met, but it was too soon. Eventually, he stopped talking about it.

The months still felt like dreaming sometimes, like Ludwig would wake up to Feliciano and Gilbert and everything would be right again, but he knew they weren't coming back. School was a welcome escape, but slowly, home became better. It was usually quiet, with Vati reading and Ludwig studying, but Ludwig would always take quiet over arguments. Vati knew a lot about the First World War, and he talked about how and what each side had innovated in a race to win. Ludwig was intrigued, and he had the feeling his grandfather was grateful to have someone to talk to.

They didn't talk about the incidents with people like Gilbert on the streets. Ludwig always turned the channel if the news started talking about it. Vati was tired of arguing, and Ludwig didn't dare break their fledgling peace for something like this, no matter how much it made him feel twisted and guilty and wrong. What was his secret compared to a quiet home? It wasn't worth disagreeing on this, Ludwig had convinced himself. It didn't matter.

He wouldn't let anything break that peace, even Antonio.

'My father is the pastor,' Antonio said one day. Ludwig nodded; he knew. Antonio ran a hand though his rumpled curls. 'I was thinking of...telling him. I am eighteen now, and I have a job, so when he- _if_ he decides it is unacceptable...' He trailed off. What he was meaning hit Ludwig a second later.

'You're going to come out to him.'

'Yes,' Antonio said, eyes shining with tears.

'No. No, you can't.'

'Ludwig-'

' _Gilbert_ ,' Ludwig said. His eyes stung, but he would not cry. He was not the _baby brother_ anymore, because there was nobody left to call him that. 'He did that and he's gone now.'

'This is my decision, Ludwig. I know what I'm doing.'

'You don't!' Ludwig was frantic. 'You can't. Why can't you just-just stay quiet?'

Antonio's face closed off. Ludwig realized he'd said what the pastor had, sometimes, and hot shame flooded his stomach, but he didn't back down.

'I thought you'd…understand,' Antonio said finally. His voice was cooler than normal. He left. Ludwig studied until his eyes hurt and then worked out until he couldn't move, but the accusing look in Antonio's eyes wouldn't leave him alone.

Sometimes Gilbert's last words to him flashed through his head. _Baby brother, what are you doing up?_ Like a hand ruffling his hair and the soft hiss of a laugh. It made him feel hot and furious and helpless, because sometimes all he wanted was his big brother back to explain the world and make everything make sense again.

One day, Vati laughed, and Ludwig realized he'd never heard him laugh before. Vati's smile faded, and he stared at Ludwig, taking in the details of his face. It made Ludwig too aware that he fell together in the same lines that Gilbert had. People looked at him when they first saw him like they were expecting him to burst out in runaway poetry and bloody knuckles once he turned sixteen, like he was a bird fledging wings with black hawk feathers. But Ludwig wasn't like that. Gilbert had said Ludwig was the _good kid_ , and he _was_. He had to be.

'You look like her,' Vati finally said. 'Your mother. She had a way of looking at people like you do.'

They never talked about his and Gilbert's mother, and Ludwig sat forward, trying not to betray the surge of feeling.

'What was she like?'

'She was always a...shooting star, I heard people call her. Wild and unrestrained.'

 _She sounds like Gilbert_ , Ludwig wanted to say. Vati looked like he wanted to say it, too, but he pressed his lips together and sat back. Gilbert still haunted the silences between them.

Antonio had taken over the role of explaining the world. When school started mattering more, he had sat Ludwig down at his kitchen table and asked him seriously what he wanted to do.

 _Gilbert would have answered that easily_ , was Ludwig's first thought. Gilbert had never had problems deciding to grab a path with both hands and devoting himself in his entirety to it.

'What have other people decided to do?' Ludwig asked. He didn't let his voice shake.

'This isn't about...other people, Ludwig. You need to do what you feel is right. I chose to study literature and its history because of how it affects me. Francis chose fine arts because he loved all things beautiful.'

'And?' Ludwig pushed. His throat felt tight. This was the first time he'd said anything about Gilbert to anyone for months. Antonio's jaw tightened.

'Some people choose engineering. They can also choose to take secondary courses in...music.'

Ludwig didn't say anything more about it that day, but he chose the engineering classes. Antonio didn't come back for two weeks. When he did, he said one thing.

'Ludwig, you are your own person. Nobody can influence you.'

Ludwig ignored him. It was easier to follow orders. After the choices Gilbert had made, Ludwig didn't want to destroy things by rushing into his own decisions.

One day in June, Antonio arrived with his hair tangled and his face flushed with life, looking better than he had for-

Ludwig realized, with a jolt, that it had almost been a year. A year of the silence where Feliciano's vibrancy had been making his words stick in his throat, a year of memories and slow change. Antonio was swaying slightly on his feet, and his face was painted with two blue circles again.

'They're parading,' he said. 'People like...me.'

'Oh.' Ludwig didn't know what to feel. He wanted to agree to what Antonio was offering-the dizzy, heady, golden happiness. But that was with Feliciano, and without Feliciano, Ludwig wasn't brave enough to do this by himself. Not after what had happened last time.

'Don't get in the way of the cameras,' he said, and turned away. His secret, what he'd been pushing away and denying for months, was thrumming underneath his ribs, longing to be himself for just one night.

'Ludwig-'

'You said I was my own person,' Ludwig shouted into the empty kitchen, and his voice echoed and sounded like Gilbert's. Ludwig couldn't move. He was terrified of letting himself want this, and some part of him was disgusted. He couldn't tell if it was at his cowardice or his longing, and that scared him. He told himself that was how it was supposed to be. It was easier if he wasn't like that, because Gilbert-

'This is because of him. I'm a fool not to have seen it earlier.'

Antonio stood there, teeth bared in a snarl. His eyes flashed, and he looked deranged like a fallen angel.

'You've changed,' he spat. 'God, what did Gilbert do to you? This is because of him, isn't this? All of this is because of him. You think that it was _this_ that ruined him, instead of the fact that he was just a fucking _bastard_ , and you're too blind to see it. You're still worshipping his memory a _year_ after he left you. That's your problem, Ludwig. You live in fear of what he'll think of you.' He laughed and threw his arms up to gesture at the silent house. 'He's not coming back. Stop pretending he is.'

He stormed out and slammed the door behind him so hard the timbres rattled. Ludwig sat down at the table, feeling numb. The air was heavy and hot. Storm weather. Antonio's voice shuddered through his ribs. _You're too blind to see it_ and _he's not coming back_.

That night was the first time Ludwig drank to feel less instead of more. A sip of the bitter liquid courage in the upper cupboard that made him cough and choke, but filled him with a fire that made all of Antonio's words not matter so much. There was no liquid, bubbling happiness here, just hurt and fear and betrayal and then less of all of it.

That night was also the first night Ludwig kissed a girl. The people were storming and the sky roared, and Ludwig wanted to join them, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. So he found a girl a few years older with a mouth like coral who knew him only as the engineering student from the other school and let her wind a hand in the spikes he couldn't flatten at the back of his hair and have her way with him up against the back of the church. He couldn't force himself to do more than hold on. She tasted of mint and chocolate and his own guilt, and Ludwig closed his eyes and thought of Feliciano, Feliciano, the artist's calluses on his hands as he slid a hand along his hummingbird ribcage, the liquid gold gleam of his eyes in the dark, storm weather pressing them close and tangling them in the sheets of his bed, breathless and devoted. She did not speak, as Ludwig couldn't if he had wanted. If he just closed his eyes and imagined it was Feliciano touching him, he could almost stand this.

He didn't remember her name when she left him with messy hair and messier thoughts. He was too busy with Feliciano's name stuck in his throat. He stood there for a long moment before he opened the old, cramped door to the stone passage and found the boxes of magazines. He flipped through them for no more than fifteen minutes, fitting gold eyes and auburn curls to the runners and swimmers, all lithe avian muscles under his hands, before he finally went home. Vati was watching the news.

Ludwig stood at the door, too aware of the hardness he'd seen in his eyes and the way he held himself. With the moonlight silvering the messy spikes of his hair, he looked like Gilbert must have the first time he came home late with his head spinning and more than two kinds of red on his lips. Antonio was right. He still lived for Gilbert, but it was easier to follow orders, no matter how difficult the orders themselves were.

'Where were you?' Vati asked.

'With-with a girl.'

'What was her name?'

'I don't know,' Ludwig admitted. He thought Vati would start talking about the parade, but he didn't. He just nodded slightly, and his careful expression flickered. He said something Ludwig couldn't catch entirely, something that started with _just like his mother_.

 _Just like my brother_ , Ludwig thought. He tended to break people too easily.

Ludwig felt _wrong_ as he stumbled upstairs, wrong like he never had when he was with Feliciano. It didn't make sense. Feliciano had said to be happy, and this should have made him happy. The other boys at school talked about kissing girls and how it was always a head rush.

He collapsed into bed in his street clothes, too exhausted to think any longer.

He dreamed it was Feliciano and him against the back wall of the church instead, kissing in broad daylight like he wasn't a coward, like nobody would hurt them, their skin painted a thousand colours with the stained glass window. Feliciano was taller now, but Ludwig could still push him back against the stone and hear his name gasped with that _voice_ he'd dreamed about so much, about his hands and his praise in every language Ludwig knew, his mouth on his pulse, going so fast Ludwig wondered if it would give out, and it was all too much, too much in the best way.

He woke up with Feliciano's name on his lips and his guilt hanging like a shroud. He lay there, every part of him hurting in a way he didn't know it could, for something more than a dream. Finally, he turned away from everything like coral girls and Antonio's words and, with a quiet gasp of the name he'd been keeping like a secret in the marrow of his bones for a year, whispered _Feliciano_ and for the first time, felt right again.

0o0o0o

Antonio didn't come back the next day. He came back a month later, his curls long enough to pull into a short ponytail. He didn't say anything, simply sat down at the table.

'You didn't get caught,' Ludwig said. He was beyond relieved that Antonio hadn't gone how Gilbert had, but now the too-familiar guilt was back, making him feel weighted and wrong.

'I was...not allowed back home after the parade,' Antonio said. 'Francis is letting me stay with him until I find my own place. I thought you'd be interested to know that your brother is no longer in the city. He's back in Europe.' Antonio's voice was too stiff, too formal. He didn't meet his eyes. Was he thinking of what he'd shouted before?

'He made it,' Ludwig said. His own voice sounded too far away. Antonio laughed. It came out as a bark.

'In a way.'

They sat there in the heavy silence for a long moment. Antonio broke it.

'Ludwig, I'm sorry.'

'Don't.'

'You don't need to live by him-' Antonio winced at even mentioning Gilbert. 'I shouldn't have said what I did. Gilbert was-Gilbert is my friend. My best friend, but he's made his decisions and just because he is your blood does not mean you have to forgive him-'

'Don't, Antonio.' Ludwig stood up. He was tired of everything. School had ended for summer, and there was too much time to hurt over Feliciano and Gilbert and mint chocolate. 'You were right. But I'm not going to-to stop, okay?' He didn't realize his voice was filling with tears until they were prickling at his eyes, at all the humming emotions just under his too-thin skin, like he was a child again. Anyone could shatter him now. 'I can't. It's easier to just follow what he did.'

'I know.' Antonio gazed at him with an expression of such sadness Ludwig almost promised he would change. 'You're so much like him sometimes. Too much for your own good.'

He left Ludwig standing in the kitchen feeling as fragile and vulnerable as a bird with a broken wing.

0o0o0o

Two more years passed, and Ludwig did not forget Gilbert, but he wasn't as hurt by him anymore. Feliciano was still a raw knot of emotion in him, inside the chambers of his heart like a compass needle always pulling, so gently sometimes he could almost ignore it. Their language map was so worn that Ludwig folded it up and put it away.

Ludwig kissed girls occasionally, because otherwise people would whisper queer, and it was less his own fear and more the memory of Feliciano's blank wide eyes that made Ludwig find girls who's names he never remembered to hide with behind the walls. He learned how to touch girls, and how to stop watching every boy that walked by. Ludwig was good at following the rules, and he only broke them once.

Ludwig kissed a boy, too, only once. His touch had set off sudden sparks that ran up and down his spine, pooling in his stomach and in all the gaps in his chest. He was older, with a long blue-striped scarf and piercing eyes, but his hands were streaked with paint like Feliciano's had been and Ludwig decided not to think for the night. They'd met across the bar and Ludwig had asked him what his name was with his heart in his throat. He hadn't answered, just beckoned him out to the alley and kissed him barely protected by the shadows and his scarf. Ludwig had gone home dizzy and satisfied.

It was an August storm, full-bodied and hot, rain lashing the windows. The wind was howling. Ludwig was listening to the records Feliciano had chosen. Everything was warm and safe until their hurricane walked up the pathway, white hair tangled in the gales. Ludwig's heart stopped and started and heavy, heavy fear filled the silence.

Ludwig had learned about the anatomy of the heart in science class and the instructor said chest cavity like there was a gaping dark space inside his chest with his fragile heart suspended inside of it, like the yolk in an egg. The instructor never told him that sometimes there was a huge, dark space inside his chest from where his older brother had ran away, and when he came back, his chest would feel tight in the worst way because there was too much pressure inside and not enough outside. He was never shown on a diagram where someone could process all their pain and anger and horrible, horrible need. He was never told that sometimes hurricanes hatched from fragile eggshell hearts and broke everything and you would let them.

Gilbert Beilschmidt stood at the door, wind whipping his white hair into his face. His gaze swept over Ludwig, his height, the breadth of his shoulders, and lingered on his hair. He smiled and it was like ice cracking, all terror and pain.

'Baby brother, you've gotten so tall,' he said.

Ludwig stood there. He could only faintly hear. His fragile heart was pounding in his ears. Gilbert was here, his wildfire older brother, after three years of nothing. Three years after abandoning him, he showed up and Ludwig just wanted his big brother back.

He should not have forgiven him. Some small, childish part of him knew that he did not have to forgive Gilbert. There was no reason to forgive Gilbert.

But Ludwig had spent three years wanting his brother back and in the end, he was still scared of heights and failure and other things and he needed this, his big brother's red eyes on his. Ludwig was a fool for sacrifice, for devotion, and he would let Gilbert do this because nothing mattered except him being back. Everything would be better now.

He stepped forward jerkily, and Gilbert tilted his head and asked if Ludwig was going to hit him with a sad kind of smile, and then Ludwig grabbed him and buried his face in his shoulder. He wasn't crying tears, but there were horrible, horrible noises coming out of him, threats and pleads and a choking, rattling gasp. His chest was burning, but he did not care. Gilbert pulled him closer and whispered reassurances until all three years had wracked through him, leaving him empty, and quiet, and exhausted. An empty slate to be rewritten by Gilbert, who's hands were more callused than before.

God, three years, three years of hoping and wishing and praying and Gilbert was here, and Ludwig would give him everything, everything.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Gilbert is complicated and personally, I would not forgive him.**

 ** _:: Old archives of people's lives_**


	32. Chapter 32

Vati was standing in the doorway when they broke apart. His face was blank, without rage, without accusation. Gilbert carefully let go of Ludwig and opened his mouth as if to say something, but finally didn't. Vati turned and went back upstairs.

Gilbert didn't look at Ludwig. He was quiet for a long moment, his expression indecipherable.

'Are my things still up there?'

'I put them in boxes,' Ludwig said, his voice too small for the weight of silence hanging over them. Gilbert nodded. He still wouldn't look at him as he climbed the stairs.

Gilbert hesitated before turning the doorknob and stepping inside. Ludwig hadn't taken down his posters of girls and birds. Gilbert silently gazed at the room before rushing towards the birdcage. He stood over it and his hand drifted towards his hair.

'Where's Gilbird?' Ludwig asked.

'Still in Vienna,' Gilbert said. 'I-I didn't take him with me.'

'What happened with Roderich?' Ludwig's old anger suddenly welled up inside of him like hot blood. 'Did you leave him too?'

Gilbert's body rounded in on the corners-curling his shoulders, ducking his head. 'No. It wasn't like that.'

'Tell me.' Ludwig was tempted for a second to push further, and then he did. He wouldn't, he couldn't force himself to stop Gilbert at doing anything he wanted with his fragile eggshell heart, but he could make him hurt, too. 'You don't get to hide anything anymore after what you did.'

Gilbert flinched like Ludwig had hit him, and a hot surge went through his chest-there was power in hurting someone like Gilbert, from knowing he was one of the only people who could. And then he felt guilty, horribly guilty, because if he had to have burning power under his hands he wanted it to be in the groaning praise of Feliciano's voice and his body made for art shuddering against him, all that power for creating beauty instead of breaking it. He didn't want to hurt anybody else, but this was Gilbert. Hurting him was the only way to make him feel and listen.

'They found out,' Gilbert said with a voice like the wind. 'Or-someone sent them the clips. The company covered it up well, his picture never reached the TVs in Europe, but someone sent it in.'

'And you ran.'

'I told him first,' Gilbert said. His shoulders rose and fell in some approximation of a shrug. His voice was choked. Ludwig didn't care. 'I found out, and we agreed it wasn't safe to live together anymore.'

'So you left him?'

'I couldn't do anything else,' Gilbert spat, suddenly rounding on him. 'You know I'm still in love with him, don't you? It fucking _hurts_ to have to leave him, but I'd rather leave than get him hurt again.'

'It didn't seem to hurt you very much to leave me!' Ludwig shouted, not caring that Vati might hear. He wanted Gilbert to know what had happened these three years. 'Since you did it so much. Every time you had to face something _you left me!_ I didn't get to _talk_ to you about it! I didn't get to _agree_ to losing my big brother for three years, Gilbert! Not that you'd cared for me before that!'

Gilbert flinched back again. Ludwig grabbed him by the shoulders and in a split second, realized he was looking _down_ at his big brother. He'd gotten taller while Gilbert was still wiry-thin and sparing, like he hadn't changed in three years, and he felt...breakable.

Ludwig pulled away so fast he crashed back against the wall, shaking out his hands to rid them of the horrible feeling, but the urge hadn't inside his hands, it had been inside _him_. He had wanted to _hurt_ Gilbert then, not with words but with the fact that he was stronger. He turned away, feeling disgusting.

'I know,' said Gilbert, behind him, like he had stopped himself from coming closer. His pale hands settled gently on Ludwig's shoulders, not pulling, but steady. If he was saying it about Ludwig's words or about the intention he'd seen in his eyes, Ludwig didn't know and he didn't want to.

'You said _again_ ,' Ludwig said, trying to push away the feeling, hoping every memory of it would vanish like a bad dream. He did not want to think of hurting Gilbert more than anything, he did not want to start this fight-that-would-not-be-a-fight. Because Gilbert would not put his scarred hands on him. He would let Ludwig shove him and paint his white skin black-blue-red, he'd think he _deserved_ it. For all his faults-for all these hurts and runaway words, Gilbert had always wanted the best for him, Gilbert would not fight back.

The thought of his big brother's blood staining his skin made him sick, made his stomach turn and the world spin and his mouth fill with acid.

'When has your big brother ever been able to stop getting into a fight?' Gilbert asked with the barest trace of humour in his tone. 'I shouldn't have done it. I should have been more careful, but Ludwig, we felt _invincible_.'

'They hurt him?'

'They hurt him,' Gilbert echoed, this time pulling him around to face. His hands dropped away and curled into fists. 'It wasn't the first time, but we were everything, we were always winning, until then. And-and we knew it was going to keep happening. I can't stay when I'm hurting people, baby brother.'

'Is that what you saw leaving me as?' Ludwig asked. If Gilbert said it was, Ludwig knew he'd end up accepting it. Because it was easy to let Gilbert fall back into the paragon of perfection Ludwig had seen him as, that all his decisions were selfless and for better.

'No. But I know it tore you up,' Gilbert said. 'All our arguing. You changed. I changed you, and I hated that.'

'I know,' Ludwig said, as if from a distance. 'I found your diaries.'

'You did?' Gilbert chuckled softly, but his eyes were suddenly sharp. 'Did you see the pamphlet?'

'I did.'

Gilbert nodded. His eyes kept drifting to their height difference. Some of Ludwig wanted to curl in and make himself smaller again, but part of him couldn't, not anymore.

Gilbert suddenly reached out and Ludwig stepped back, not out of fear but out of the conflicting memories of different touches. Gilbert pulled away as if he'd been burned.

'When did you start putting back your hair?' he asked, voice distant and pained.

'Right after you left.'

'And you got so much taller.' Gilbert touched his shoulder. 'Guess you're not so much my baby brother anymore.'

Ludwig's throat was too tight to answer, and Gilbert turned his face towards the moonlight streaming in the window.

'It wasn't just leaving you,' he said. 'It was leaving Vati.'

'Was it worth it?' Ludwig asked. Gilbert turned back towards him, seemingly at a loss for an answer.

'It was, some days. Do you expect me to say no?' he asked, and when he looked away, his eyes gleamed with tears. 'But that-the freedom and the ability to be what I never could be here-that was always separate from missing you.'

Ludwig didn't know how to answer. He wasn't sure what or how to believe Gilbert anymore, and he was tired; not just of tonight and his unrestrained emotions but of three long years. He had stopped expecting Gilbert to come back, and there was no preparing for the cold-water shock of his brother back in his life.

'I need some time,' he said, and held up a hand to stop Gilbert from speaking again. 'I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow we can-we might talk more.'

'Okay,' Gilbert said, uncharacteristically understanding. Ludwig turned to go.

'I missed you too, Gilbert,' he said, his voice cracking over his name. 'For three years.'

'Oh, baby brother. I've always been your fatal flaw,' Gilbert said sadly, and then softly, 'I'm sorry. It's not worth much, but I'm sorry for that and everything else. Go to bed.'

0o0o0o

Vati didn't say anything to Gilbert at breakfast. He stared through him like he was a ghost. Gilbert didn't say anything, either, and Ludwig only realized after he'd gone back upstairs that he'd been bracing for Gilbert to start a fight.

He sat down at his desk and opened the textbook in front of him with more force than he intended. Gilbert wouldn't start arguing again. He wasn't that foolhardy, Ludwig hoped. He was selfish and prideful and didn't think about his decisions, but he wasn't stupid, far from it. His brother was one of the most brilliant people Ludwig knew in terms of living, but in terms of knowing when to be quiet and when to speak, he was less so.

'Ludwig?'

Ludwig still wasn't used to Gilbert's voice again, and he wasn't ready for whatever would keep happening, but he nodded for him to come in. Gilbert did, but stayed by the door, staring around at his room.

'You aren't going to start fighting again,' Ludwig said. It wasn't a question.

'No, I'm not.' Gilbert came closer. 'I'm surprised you didn't take any posters for your room.'

'They'd not my taste,' Ludwig said. He didn't need this, this that he'd convinced himself he didn't need to deal with, because Gilbert had gotten turned out because of it. It didn't matter, anyways, if Feliciano wasn't here.

'That's not what I meant and you know it,' Gilbert said sharply. Ludwig kept his gaze fixed on the meaningless words in the book. Gilbert sat down on the bed beside him. 'Sometimes you have to do things, Ludwig. You get hurt if you don't.'

'I know.'

'You haven't told him.' It wasn't a question, either.

'Why would I? After what happened with you.'

'Because you aren't stupid, even when you're drunk on love. Unlike me.' Gilbert shifted and for the first time, smiled slightly. 'He hasn't told you to stop bringing Feli over, has he?'

'He doesn't need to.'

Gilbert went still. 'He didn't-he was straight?'

'No.' Ludwig's mind filled with memories of his touch, of the blankness in his eyes and the rasping of his breath when he sobbed. His voice still sounded like he was listening to the words, not speaking them. 'He moved back to Europe. His grandfather died.'

'Oh, _fuck_. I...I'm sorry, Ludwig. I had no idea.' Gilbert sounded terrible.

'If you'd stayed, you would have known,' Ludwig said, but he couldn't force the venom he wanted behind it.

'He shouldn't have had to go through that.' Gilbert shook his head. 'I...God, I'm really sorry. I just wanted to know. Has Antonio been taking care of you?'

'Yes. He helped me pick out what I wanted to study.'

'Engineering?' Gilbert asked, voice carefully calm. Ludwig finally looked at him, keeping his face expressionless.

'Yes.'

Gilbert left him after that. Ludwig pretended to study until his eyes hurt and then he listened to Feliciano's music, watched the end of the rain drip off his windows, and imagined opening the window to hang a note, even though he would never get a response.

Two days later, Antonio and Francis came by. Gilbert ran into the front yard to meet them. Ludwig heard crying, and furious, accusatory shouting, and finally hysterical laughter and sobbing before he went back upstairs, and when Gilbert came in his face was flushed and he looked alive.

Ludwig still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Gilbert being back. It wasn't perfect. Nothing was perfect, because Vati still looked through Gilbert like he didn't exist, but it was better. It had to be, because his brother was back, but on the other hand, he had gotten used to life without him. Gilbert being back was another change, but it was never the one he wanted.

Ludwig didn't let him think of Feliciano coming back. It would be better if he was able to let Feliciano go, like some wonderful wild bird from the cage of his heart, but hearts were only fragile when dealing with older brothers and not when you had to let go of artists with the world in the curve of their palms. He didn't let himself wonder about Feliciano coming back because it would be too painful.

Gilbert took a job in engineering downtown, which gave Ludwig an excuse not to see him and Gilbert an excuse only to come to church occasionally. But on one weekend, his caution had worn thin, and he told Gilbert he wanted to go downtown.

Ludwig automatically headed for his usual place, but Gilbert grabbed him by the back of his collar.

'What are you doing?'

Ludwig's explanation died on his tongue. He remembered the boy with the scarf and how there had been no questions about who either of them liked, just the eyes that boys and girls at normal places made across mahogany tables as if they were normal, too-as if they were _allowed_.

Ludwig kept quiet and let Gilbert lead him somewhere else. He hadn't been down here for months; he hadn't had the heaviness or the furious confusion that meant he needed liquid courage to make him braver and make his thoughts quieter. Gilbert ordered and stumbled on the second order, like he was used to ordering for someone else, someone with music and bruises now blooming on their skin.

'You're almost eighteen,' Gilbert said once the bartender had left. 'Answer me honestly on this, baby brother. Have you been with anyone else since Feli?' His voice was low.

'A few-a few girls, but I don't-'

Gilbert cut him off. 'You know what I mean.'

Ludwig looked away and stirred his drink. He didn't like talking about this. It was something he kept private.

'Only once. I didn't know their name. Fifteen minutes in an alley.'

Gilbert relaxed slightly. 'Good. I had hoped so.'

'You hoped?' Ludwig asked. This time, Gilbert met his accusation with one of his own.

'Do you think you can get anywhere if people think you're like that?'

'But I _am_ ,' Ludwig said. This was the first time he'd admitted it, even to himself, since Feliciano left, and it was to his brother, who was telling him he shouldn't be.

'So am I,' Gilbert threatened, but his voice shook. 'And Roderich paid for it.'

'Feliciano isn't here.'

'Then you'll be the one getting hurt,' Gilbert said. He blew out a sharp breath and drained his drink. 'I know what happens, Ludwig. I'm trying to help you.'

'Helping like when you left because of what your arguments did to me?' Ludwig accused, barely remembering to keep quiet.

'Helping like trying to keep my brother from ending up like the man I love,' Gilbert snarled.

'You're still in love with Roderich,' Ludwig said, eyes stinging. 'How do you think he'd feel about this?'

'He'd understand,' Gilbert hissed back. 'Maybe you would, too, if you realized this isn't just pretty words and love declarations. I can't control you, Ludwig, but I can tell you to stop at least being _open_ about it.'

'I'm not open about it,' Ludwig said, but the hot weight of shame had already settled on his shoulders. Gilbert said he couldn't control him, but that wasn't entirely true.

'Then get a girl. You don't have to love her. They don't even have to be the same ones, just get out if the house and at least _act_ like you aren't just as much of a _fuck-up_ as your big brother.' But it was his last words that hurt. 'You're supposed to be the good kid, you know.'

'I already do that,' Ludwig said, feeling stung. Gilbert got up and put his and Ludwig's mostly unfinished drink back on the bar.

'Do it more often.'

0o0o0o

Gilbert had changed. His own stone of guilt hung around his neck, and Ludwig knew that what had happened to Roderich tore at him, but he was... _different_. If Ludwig was the _good kid_ , which meant studying and finding girls who's names he'd started to stop asking, Gilbert was the big brother he'd missed, brilliant as wildfire and just as wonderful, showing him a world that worked perfectly, as it was supposed to. Some days, Vati's eyes didn't look through him like he was a ghost, and they even spoke. Gilbert didn't argue anymore.

But if Ludwig came home too late or Gilbert caught him staring at the back of the boy who attended the art classes at school, hands smeared with paint, Gilbert's eyes were flat and hard and Ludwig looked back at the ground. It felt like a betrayal of who Ludwig had held as he confessed he was in love with Feliciano. It felt like a betrayal of himself.

Some part of Ludwig thought and knew that Gilbert was right. He stopped looking at boys, stopped admiring the way they moved and held themselves, but it made him always feel weighted and prickling and wrong. Nothing felt right anymore.

Maybe that was why he ended up in Francis' art store one day, and Francis' eyes widened as he took him in. Ludwig knew he'd changed-he'd seen the same flat, hard look in his eyes in the mirror, and working out was the only thing that kept the prickling wrongness away.

'About you and your brother,' Francis said, clearly waiting, and even though Ludwig didn't want to talk about it, everyone deserved an explanation.

'He left because Roderich got hurt. Because they were together. And he-he's been keeping me safe.'

'He hasn't,' Francis said. 'And that wasn't what I wanted to know.' He dropped the cloth he was using and came closer. Ludwig was taller than him, which felt strange. 'Have you forgiven him?'

Didn't Francis know there were a thousand parts to that questions? That Ludwig had to forgive him, especially for some things? Forgiveness didn't matter, regardless. His brother was back and that was all that mattered.

'Yes,' Ludwig said. Francis shook his head slowly, blue eyes never leaving his.

'You really shouldn't. I haven't.'

Ludwig had known that not everyone thought of Gilbert like he did, but only in a distant way. Francis was his best friend. Francis raised an eyebrow at him.

'He runs away for three years and only writes occasionally. Just because he's decided yet again he cannot stand up as soon as there's a hint of a battle he may lose does not mean all his debts are forgiven.' Francis turned away and began wiping down the new chalkboards again. 'I'd go on, but I trust Antonio's assessment, which means it's useless lecturing you. You hero-worship him, Ludwig.'

'He didn't write to me,' Ludwig said. He couldn't let himself think about the rest of Francis' words.

'I told him he should,' Francis said, but something had changed in his carefully careless stance. He looked back. 'It's natural to want to forgive blood. Especially for you. But Gilbert…' Francis sighed. 'He takes and takes and takes. It's in his nature, no matter how much he cares for you. If you can't stand up to him, he'll just keep doing it. I don't think he even knows he's doing it, but…' Francis absentmindedly touched his chest, as if he too had a huge dark space around his heart.

'I can stand up to him,' Ludwig said, feeling again the rush of hot power that had come with knowing he could hurt.

'No, you can't,' Francis said. 'Antonio and I can. Roderich can even best him. But you? You let him do whatever he wants with you.'

Ludwig didn't answer. He knew it was true, but to have it said so plainly felt wrong.

'I'm sorry,' Francis said from behind him. 'I-I went too far.'

'No, it's fine.' Ludwig's voice sounded far away. 'You're right.'

He didn't go back for a while, but he slowly began visiting every week to see Francis and talk about life and to see Antonio. Gilbert's friendships slowly healed, and Ludwig would find them roaring with laughter in the shop.

The month turned. Ludwig was almost eighteen when the world changed again.


	33. Chapter 33

**It's always good to hope.**

 **0o0o0o**

Life in Italy was good-not wonderful, but good. It would be better if the sky didn't keep reminding Feliciano of what he'd left behind. It would be better if he hadn't obeyed Lovino's veiled warning not to write, to let everyone live their own lives, to not endanger them with the vulnerable words in letters. Feliciano knew he was right, and he'd written himself that Ludwig shouldn't be sad on his account, but it still felt like a betrayal of sorts.

Lovino's sharp edges had softened in Europe, and since he remembered better than Feliciano did what life used to be like in Europe and was an adult now, sometimes they were allowed to go out and around when he wasn't working. Feliciano knew Lovino still missed Antonio sometimes, and that he only kept with the girls he found for days or weeks, but Nonna didn't say as much as Feliciano's grandfather used to. There were fewer broadcasts about the protests here, and even less in the papers until Feliciano found the publications that did. It was exhilarating to know that there was the same hidden current in people here, that Feliciano could look at people in the street and know that at least some of them must be like him.

' _Thank you_ ,' Feliciano said emphatically as the young boy he'd begun to know with dark eyes and hair pulled back into a ponytail handed him the magazine.

'Yeah, don't worry. Listen, Feli, if you or Lovino ever need anything, there's people around, right?'

'Like what?' Feliciano asked curiously.

He shrugged modestly. 'I can dye hair. Or I can help your brother to fix that old car.'

'Really?'

'People have to stick together.' He stood up and checked his watch. 'I have to be home in twenty minutes or my old man's gonna flip on me. But...Feli, you said you used to live around Houston?' His voice was oddly casual.

'Yes, why?'

'You ever meet a kid there? Pale as the moon, white hair-before you say, I _don't_ mean Gilbert Beilschmidt,' he said, wincing. 'Pale purple eyes, wore a scarf. His name is Emil, and his older brother is Lukas-'

'I know Lukas!' Feliciano exclaimed. 'It I think I do, he looks the same. I met him once, with Mathias, at one of those club things Feliks brought me to. I don't know Emil, though.'

The boy still looked pleased. 'I'm supposed to be over in Houston. I will be next month, when Yao gives custody back to the Kirklands. Mathias taught me how to fix a car.'

'How do you know Gilbert?' Feliciano wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

The boy went quiet, studying him. ' _Everybody_ knows Gilbert,' he said finally. 'His musician's money is barely keeping him out of the papers. I feel sorry for his brother.'

This-just the mention of Ludwig made Feliciano's old, careful barriers break.

'Is there any news about him? Gilbert's brother,' he said, in a rush, his hope and fear and longing all tangled up in a constant knot behind his ribs, ready to snap.

'No.' The boy opened his mouth as if to say something and didn't. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's fine,' Feliciano said, even though it wasn't. He made himself smile, which was easier now that he'd practiced, for his brother and his grandmother and the girls he loved but who weren't the _same_ , and adjusted his cap. 'Can you help me with the car?'

0o0o0o

Feliciano thought he'd gotten fairly good at working on machines, but he preferred to draw the gears and belts in his sketchbooks. It reminded him of Gilbert, which made him think of Ludwig. The boy, who said to call him Leon, promised to tell him if he heard anything about Gilbert's brother. Feliciano told Leon not to tell him about Gilbert. He didn't want to know.

Lovino had been talking more and more in private with Nonna, and Feliciano let them be. He didn't want to know if there was another secret like his grandfather's sickness. It was-like with Gilbert-easier to not know.

Lovino came into his room one day when Feliciano was drawing Ludwig, and he instinctively flipped it closed. Lovino was too distracted to notice. He made straight for him and stood almost nervously, hands clenching and unclenching.

'Feliciano, do you miss America?' he asked immediately. Feliciano's heart stuttered-the thought of those few years, of Ludwig-it was too much.

'I-I do, I liked the people and the hugeness of the cities, but I like it here, too. I know you miss...things, too.'

Lovino eyed him briefly, maybe weighing the way the name _Antonio_ had almost slipped off his tongue, but just nodded, decidedly.

Feliciano jumped up, heart in his throat and at the tip of his fingers.

'Are we going back?' he asked, almost unwilling to hear. If they weren't, it would be more disappointment, but if they were-oh, if they were going back…

'Not Nonna. Just you and me. Maybe.' Lovino's eyes were gleaming with a kind of frantic excitement, and Feliciano was drifting, unable to believe, wanting so desperately for this dream to be true. 'I've been asking, since I'm an adult now.'

Feliciano took a deep breath and dug into both his courage and his memories. 'Do you think-think people we knew are still there?'

'I think so,' Lovino said. 'I know some are. I've been writing to Francis and all, and he says he can find us a place to live for a while, but-' He paused, trying to gauge Feliciano's reaction. 'It's not forever, okay? But I thought you might-'

Feliciano leapt up before he could finish and embraced him, and Lovino staggered, but hugged him back. Feliciano knew his words of gratitude were slurred with emotion, the wonderful rushing _happiness_ chasing away any trace of heaviness, and Lovino held him tightly.

'It's not all confirmed yet,' he said when they released with a slight smile. 'But it will be, don't worry. After all, you're almost eighteen, and it's time for you to see the world again.'

When Lovino left, Feliciano twirled around his bedroom, the sunlight dancing on his eyelids, and laughed like he hadn't for too long, until his throat was sore and he collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling and pressing his hands to his face, unable to stop smiling. They were going back. Back to America, which meant gold and blue skies and _Ludwig_ , wonderful, incredible Ludwig with his sky-blue eyes and _God_ , Feliciano hadn't been lying when he said he had already started to miss him. Even if it was not now, he could wait, he could wait. If the past years had been an ache of memory, it was now nearly a pain.

Waiting made him reckless. Feliciano snuck away two weeks later and got Leon to dye his hair gold. Lovino saw him and nearly smiled.

0o0o0o

Gilbert always made efforts to keep quiet now, but one bright Saturday morning he burst into the dining room, just as loud and brash and wonderful as he used to be, and turned to Ludwig. His eyes flared with the fire he had kept hidden for his months back, and Ludwig- _woke up_ , was the only way to put it, like he'd been jerked out of a daze. His firebrand brother was back.

'You need to go downtown.' He didn't even look at Vati as he pushed Ludwig out of his chair. 'I'll drive you.'

'What happened?' Ludwig asked, managing to grab his black jacket as they ran out the door.

'You'll know when you get there, I promise.' He kicked the engine into gear, growling the same rough noise as it faulted and turned over.

'Is it one of the parades?' Ludwig asked quietly. Gilbert momentarily froze, but shook it off. They hadn't spoken much about those things ever since he'd come back.

'No. You'll like it better.'

Gilbert could be stubborn when he wanted. Ludwig settled back in the passenger seat and wondered what was happening. Gilbert always drove like a madman, and his hair was tangled by the wind.

He stopped outside the art store. His face was unreadable.

'Go,' he said, and Ludwig thought he heard a quaver in his voice, but Gilbert drove off before he could make sure it wasn't just maniac light in his eyes.

He pushed open the door. Francis was talking to a slightly older boy who looked so much like Alfred that Ludwig had to look again. When he saw Ludwig, he abruptly stopped, muttered a final word to the boy, and nearly ran to him.

Ludwig took an involuntary step back. Francis' eyes were glassy bright.

'You heard?' he said, voice a low, breathless question. 'I didn't think he'd ever be back-but he must be eighteen now.'

' _Who_?' Ludwig asked, more than slightly frustrated. Francis glanced at the door and laughed.

'Gilbert didn't tell you? Feliciano is back.'

Feliciano, _Feliciano Vargas was back_ -

He was falling and soaring and all sound was gone. The words were a weight of gold eyes and soft voice knocking his careful heart wide open and this is what it had felt like looking at him, back when he was still allowed to love freely-like he was everything.

Ludwig hadn't been allowed to think of Feliciano coming back, because it would only be disappointing. His dreams were already too much. This-this _shattered_ the world all over again, but not like Gilbert had. Feliciano was everything his brother was not, and he was what had been truly missing from Ludwig's world. He didn't need someone to tell him how the world should work, he needed someone who made it understandable.

He grabbed Francis' shoulders. His voice was choked, but _he did not care_.

'Where is he?'

'There's a bike shop around the corner,' Francis said. 'I-I'll let you see him by yourself.'

Ludwig turned and ran.

0o0o0o

The bike shop was dark inside, streaked with shafts of dusty sunlight. Ludwig blinked into the darkness, wondering how Feliciano had grown, if-if he'd _forgotten_ him-

Feliciano was suddenly in front of him, golden eyes bright in the darkness, his hair shining like a halo, his arms full of books, and Ludwig's heart _sang_ , the same way it had three years ago. Feliciano was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Feliciano dropped his books with a crash and before Ludwig could think, there was weight and warmth in his arms and a heartbeat fluttering against his and his name said like it was an answer and a prayer in the voice he'd dreamed about, and his chest was burning-his chest cavity was not a huge dark space, it was full of gold bright sunlight and the warmth of. liquid courage and everything, everything was right again.

'Ludwig, you're _here_ ,' Feliciano gasped, eyes shining, and Ludwig reached forward and slid his hand into his metallic gold-dyed curls, wanting- _God, wanting_ -to pull him even closer, but he wouldn't. Not in front of other people.

'You came back,' he said.

'It's not forever, Lovino said, but-it doesn't matter, Ludwig, I was so scared you'd have moved or-or forgotten me.'

'I wouldn't have forgotten you,' Ludwig promised. Feliciano smiled, and his chest still went tight.

'I didn't forget you, either.'

'I'm glad,' Ludwig said, because he couldn't describe the weight that had lifted off his chest at those words. Feliciano hadn't forgotten him.

There was a clatter from the side door and they stepped apart, Feliciano's hands lingering on his shoulders. Mathias looked out at them.

'Feliciano, what are you-' He broke off abruptly, staring at Ludwig. After a long second, his mouth curled into a broad smile and he ducked back inside his shop.

Now that they were standing apart, Ludwig realized how they'd grown. Feliciano had grown out into long runner's limbs and faint muscles, and paint and motor oil stained his hands. His hair was obviously dyed, and he looked good with it in a way Ludwig had never seen. When he looked up, Feliciano-Ludwig's stomach twisted in a way that wasn't bad in the slightest-was looking at him not in the way boys were supposed to look at girls, or girls at boys, but in the way Feliciano had always looked at him, artistry and adoration as one, eyes lingering on the lines he fell together in. Ludwig knew he'd gotten taller from the mirror and Gilbert's remarks, but it was only when Feliciano _stared_ at him, eyes taking so much _longer_ to roam up and down his body that he realized and for the first time, felt self-conscious about how he'd changed, but he also liked it in a way.

'You have your hair back,' Feliciano said, stopping his thoughts, and almost reverently reached out, but didn't touch until Ludwig nodded.

'It kept it neater,' he said.

'You look good,' Feliciano said, and slow heat unfurled in Ludwig's stomach, warming up to his throat.

'You look good, too. I like your hair.'

'I can help you dye yours, if you want,' Feliciano offered. Ludwig wanted to suddenly, tasting the temptation on his tongue, the hot thrill of rebellion. He could almost understand why Gilbert used to do it.

'Maybe,' he said. 'I-I want to, I think.'

'I can wait,' Feliciano promised. He glanced back at the door and smiled. 'Mathias is busy, do you want to walk around town?'

'Of course,' Ludwig agreed almost instantly, and knew he turned red. Feliciano didn't laugh, though. He gazed up at him and looked away with an effort, hiding his own secret smile.

As they began to walk, Ludwig had the urge to take Feliciano's hand. He pushed it away. Even when they had their thing, it was never in public. For all he knew, Feliciano had a girlfriend back in Italy.

Something sour filled his mouth at the thought, and he forced himself to leave the subject alone. It was no business of his what Feliciano did with his life. He didn't have exclusive rights, and it would be better for him if he wasn't like him-like that. Even if they wouldn't know the way his mouth quirked when he laughed and the way he smiled when he was delighted and the hoarse plead of his voice after he'd been kissed near senseless; nobody else knew any of that-

'How have you been?' Ludwig asked, to stop himself digging fingernails through his palms.

'It has been a while,' Feliciano said with a self-conscious chuckle. 'I met my grandmother. She's nice, and I was named after her, and she likes art. I met some people over there, too, Ludwig, did you know that there's a whole community of people who-there's a lot of communities of people there,' he corrected himself.

'You can say it,' Ludwig invited, but his voice didn't tell the knot of anticipation and worry in his throat. He wanted to hear it, the reassurance that Feliciano hadn't changed.

He had, though, Ludwig realized with a lurch. He'd hidden that side of him so deep he didn't know if he could let it breathe.

'People who are like that,' Feliciano said carefully, looking up at him. His bronzed curls shone like a second sun. Ludwig wanted to ask him, but if Feliciano was happy-and why wouldn't he be, if he wouldn't get hurt for who he loved?-he would not ruin that by implying what they used to be.

Ludwig had tried to keep a hold on his heart for three years, but even if it was waking up again now and jumping at every mention and memory of how they used to be, Ludwig forced himself back under control and turned away. He would say things he would regret if he kept having those eyes on his.

'Are you working in the bike shop?' he asked, and he could feel Feliciano slump slightly beside him, just as waiting, but he would not break this. Not when Feliciano was finally back.

'Mathias is letting me stay in the room above the shop,' Feliciano explained. 'I have another job in the art shop, but Antonio has the extra room there.'

'You fix engines?' Ludwig asked, impressed.

'I can fix only a few kinds of engine,' Feliciano corrected. 'It's the ones in my and my friend's car in Europe. I design posters and I guess I'm learning to dye hair.'

Feliciano stopped suddenly, and Ludwig realized they had ended up in front of the magazine store. Feliciano looked at him and Ludwig followed him beside it, in the shade of the windows. Instead of looking in to see older brothers wearing coats with secret pockets, they just drew to the back of the walls and stood close. Feliciano sighed against the crook of his shoulder, mouthing almost at his skin. Ludwig could feel his heart like a hummingbird, and the tension that wanted to shudder out of him at the emotions, that Feliciano was here and with him. It was too easy to slip back into their old rhythms, as if the years and distance disappeared.

'I still can't believe all of this,' Feliciano said suddenly. 'It's amazing. _You're_ amazing.'

'People say I've changed,' Ludwig told him. He didn't want to lead Feliciano into thinking he hadn't.

Feliciano tilted his head and the metallic gold reflected light like a firework show.

'We all have,' he said. 'But we cannot change our hearts, Ludwig, and I know yours.' He pressed a hand against his chest, and both their breaths caught.

Ludwig was still in love. He knew he was, but he would keep it quiet. Three years later and he still did not want to hurt Feliciano, and if this was what he had to do-keep his dove-heart wrapped under neat perfection-he would.

 **0o0o0o**

 **Hopefully it will be better from now on.**

 ** _:: Watching an artist's works grow as they do_**


	34. Chapter 34

**I need to close this story soon, but there is still ends I want to tie.**

 **0o0o0o**

The world had stopped caving in and started to rise again and Ludwig felt like floating. Everything had to be better now, even Gilbert retreating into his room more since Feliciano had come back. Ludwig would turn around to see Gilbert watching with an indecipherable look, almost like a grimace.

Gilbert hadn't spoken about it since. Ludwig hadn't expected Gilbert to be openly happy for him, but it felt like Gilbert was only quiet with his opinions because he had to be now.

It didn't matter, not now. Three years felt like nothing except time he'd wasted not living, and he wanted to make up for it. If Ludwig did fledge wildness like his brother did, at least his runaway thoughts would be for wonderful things.

He was allowed to drive-allowed to do _all of this_ , he reminded himself, things like not telling Gilbert he was going even as he started the car, because Feliciano and he would be only friends this time. The words were a small pang in his chest, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to ask Feliciano if he still had lingering feelings. He was going to ask for some small rebellion.

He'd tasted freedom and Ludwig had never _had_ it before, not like this, and it was like a drug. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his heart was a tattoo against his fragile ribs. He was scared of arguments and what this act might do to shatter the silence of peace, but Feliciano made him bold enough to not care about what happened next for _once_.

Mathias was handling the shop, but he waved Ludwig towards the back with a knowing grin. Ludwig felt a momentary flare of jealousy that Mathias could know-even if they weren't _like that_ anymore-and not try to reshape them like Gilbert. He pushed the thought away.

Feliciano was bent over a poster, painting an eagle on the body of the motorcycle he was drawing. Ludwig stopped to watch him for a moment, his guilt not enough to dissuade his awe at how Feliciano looked in his element, brow slightly furrowed in concentration, the sunlight in his hair and the way he'd pulled his pageboy cap over. Ludwig didn't let himself stare for long. If he kept waiting, he'd lose the knot of courage that had driven him to come this far.

'I want to dye my hair.'

Feliciano looked away from his painting and his astonished smile lit up the room.

'Ludwig, you're _back_ -and I think you'd look good with your hair dyed,' he said, jumping up. He took Ludwig's hand and pulled him towards the mirror set up at the back-and it felt like before in the press of their palms together; even though his was calloused, Feliciano's was still streaked with paint, gold for the feathers and red-black for the heart, the engine.

Ludwig couldn't believe he was doing it. There was no turning back now, and he _wanted_ this. Change had been an unwelcome, hurting thing nearly all the times before, and now he could change the world himself. Even if his decisions were bad like Gilbert's, they were _his_ , and that is what mattered.

Feliciano pressed him to sit in the chair and pushed an oversized, paint-stained white shirt into his arms.

'Put that on or your clothes will get stained,' he instructed. 'Unless you want it only temporarily, and then I guess we could use Kool-Aid, but…'

'I want it to last,' Ludwig said. He wanted a lasting mark of change. If every look in the mirror was a reminder to be braver, he would be able to start living again eventually.

'I know what you mean. What colour do you want?' Feliciano held up a bottle labeled _Cornflower_. 'Blue? To match your eyes. Like me, but not to match _my_ eyes. Your hair is already gold.'

'Blue?' Ludwig tried to imagine himself like that and couldn't. The thought was like of falling, anticipation luring him into the fear. The thought tugged at him that Vati wouldn't want the reminder of his eldest grandson's rebellion.

'I can fix it to make it last only a few weeks,' Feliciano offered. 'If you like it, I can make it last longer.'

It wasn't whether he liked it that Ludwig was thinking about. He didn't want to start the arguments again. Feliciano knew, and his voice changed.

'You're worried about what your grandfather will say?'

Ludwig nodded. He thought that if he began to speak, all his fears and dreams and emotions of three years would come rushing out, and that would include that he was still in love.

'I...knew some kids back in Europe,' Feliciano began hesitantly. 'They dealt with parents who thought these things were wrong, too. I can make the dye wash out quickly, but I won't do this at all if you'll end up in danger because of it. I never want to end up hurting you.'

Feliciano-perfect, wonderful Feliciano, knew he was the _good kid_ , that he was supposed to be perfect to make people look away from his older brother. He _remembered_ , and he didn't want to hurt him. But Ludwig wanted to live, and if he didn't find a way to express the pressure of longing and knowledge of love in his chest, it would burst out of him in argument and angry words.

'I'll be okay,' he said, and Feliciano nodded, eyes shining slightly in the dusty light, a sad smile gracing his face.

'If you're sure. Blue, you said?'

'Blue,' Ludwig said. 'I...how much does it cost?'

'My treat.' Feliciano smiled, eyes crinkling in the way they always did. 'Close your eyes.'

Ludwig did, and felt Feliciano pull his hair from careful order, fingers sliding and curling and tugging and Ludwig bit his lip and tried not to _ache_ with the want of it.

Right before Feliciano touched him, the panic that had been hiding showed itself- _Vati was going to throw him out, it would be his fault that the arguments would start again-_ and Ludwig dug his fingers into his palms and demanded bravery. Feliciano had stopped.

'Ludwig?'

'Does it hurt?' he asked softly, knowing it was stupid, but years of holding back left scar tissue inside of him that didn't shake free so easily.

'No. I won't hurt you,' Feliciano promised again. Ludwig forced away his panic and concentrated on his heartbeat and Feliciano's sure hands in his hair-like they once had been, but different all the same. In the bike shop, with sunlight painting the insides of his eyelids red, it was nearly peaceful, and Ludwig drifted.

'Ludwig, open your eyes.'

Feliciano's voice jolted him out of his haze, but Ludwig kept his eyes closed for half a second more. All his tension stretched to breaking point. This was like their first few nights, where it wasn't worth wondering what happened afterwards since the _world_ would change.

Ludwig opened his eyes and a stranger stared back at him from the mirror. They blinked when he did, and turned their head the same, but there was a piercing, hard look in their eyes that hadn't been there a few years ago, and their hair was _blue_.

'Do you like it?' Feliciano asked. 'I made it as close as I could to your eyes, but your eyes were closed, so I couldn't check. It's very close. I remembered well enough.'

'It's...good.' He ran a cautious hand through his hair. It felt normal if he closed his eyes, but it was new, and it felt brave and _right_ in a way that nothing had been for too long. And it was bright. 'Are my eyes really that...?'

'Ludwig. _Dovresti saperlo, i tuoi occhi sono molto blu_.' Feliciano hesitated and touched the cut of his jaw, turning him to see. Ludwig leaned into his touch. He had an odd expression. ' _Mi piacciono_.'

Ludwig still remembered some Italian, but it had gone by so quickly he couldn't decipher it. 'What does that mean?'

Feliciano flashed a sad kind of smile, eyes still fixed on his face like he wanted to draw. 'I guess I can say it like... _du bist wunderschön_.'

Feliciano had a way of saying things and remaking the world to make sense around him and Ludwig had fallen for it _years_ ago, but nothing quite compared with those words in his voice. He just stared, foolish and lovestruck like he could not be.

'It's good. I like it,' he said again, heart knocking against his fragile ribs.

'That's good.' Feliciano pulled him up from the chair. 'You'll probably have to keep your hair down because if you slick it back now it'll probably look funny.'

'Does it look... _funny_ now?' Ludwig asked, twisting towards the mirror again.

'No.' Feliciano reached out and caught him before he could look, turning him back to face. He brushed his hair back, hands lingering, and Ludwig's breath caught. Feliciano being so _close_ was a drug trip on gold and warmth and it was all too much and not enough. 'No, you look... _really_ good, Ludwig.'

All those years ago when Ludwig had first felt the urge to lean in, it wasn't so bad as this, because back then they didn't know what happened to people like them. Now they both knew, and Ludwig had promised not to hurt Feliciano by pursuing, but the urge was absolute and Feliciano's hand was in his hair again, staining his palms faintly blue. Nobody would be able to see them here, and God, Ludwig had been _dreaming_ about it for three years-

He stepped away and Feliciano's hand fell to his side. Ludwig couldn't look at him. He was sure Feliciano had seen his intent, and he didn't want to see the disgust there.

'Thank you,' he said, keeping his voice steady.

'Don't worry about it.' The nervous scuff of his feet against the concrete floor. Ludwig kept his eyes focused on the oil and paint stain on the ground. 'If-if your grandfather does anything, I'm here.'

Ludwig should have just said he wasn't _like that_ , just to stop any chance of this proceeding, but he couldn't.

'Thank you,' he said again, the words too small for his gratitude. Feliciano hummed, gently stepping closer again, and Ludwig finally looked up and saw intensity and determination, but no disgust.

'I wanted a change,' he said suddenly. 'A sort of-rebellion, but I don't want to be like Gilbert. I just wanted to make a decision that was entirely mine and couldn't hurt anyone.'

'Except you,' Feliciano said. His mouth twitched towards a frown. 'Unlike Gilbert.'

'Gilbert.' Ludwig tried to laugh-he hadn't told Feliciano. 'Gilbert came back.'

Feliciano went still.

'I-I hadn't…' he trailed off. 'Why?' he asked finally.

'Because Roderich got hurt,' Ludwig said. 'Or so he told me.'

'And he didn't stay?' Feliciano was staring at him again, eyes insisting on his own answer and not Gilbert's loud opinions. 'He didn't stay to help him and fight back?'

'No,' Ludwig said with a kind of savage vindictiveness. The temptation to suddenly call his brother a _coward_ hovered, but only for a second. No, Gilbert had courage. Courage or foolishness.

'He can't keep doing that to everyone,' Feliciano said. He stopped and looked Ludwig over. Ludwig knew what was coming: the question of forgiveness. He braced himself to answer that he had.

But this was Feliciano, who knew him better than he knew himself. Feliciano leaned against him, warm solidarity at his side.

'I know,' he said, and he looked like an angel with a crown. 'I know you can't help forgiving him. You know how I told you that we cannot change our hearts? Yours has him in it.'

'And you,' Ludwig said without thinking, like he'd been waiting years to say it. Feliciano paused, and then laughed softly.

'Oh, Ludwig…'

 _Tell me_ , Ludwig thought desperately. _Tell me you're not the same anymore, tell me you have a girl from Europe, tell me to stop and I swear I will_.

'You too?' Feliciano asked sadly, and his hands were back in Ludwig's hair, pressing their foreheads together. Ludwig shut his eyes, feeling emotion swell up behind his heart, unwilling to believe _this_.

It was just worse if Feliciano felt the same way. Ludwig was not going to make any decisions that hurt anybody but himself.

'I have to go home,' he said, breaking away, feeling his heart crack open, bleeding gold. He'd give everything up for Feliciano, but he would not do this. Feliciano would realize eventually. He would find someone else to love.

'I...I'll see you, okay?' Feliciano said. Ludwig nodded and backed away, hot, horrible shame in his throat and filling his bones. His skin was cold where Feliciano's had pressed against it.

He left without looking back. Mathias stared at his hair, and Ludwig got in the car and drove wildly and too fast before he finally pulled over and screamed his throat raw and slammed his hands against the steering wheel until his palms were sore and scraped but no longer cold, and when he was spent, collapsed backwards and stared through the spikes of his hair at the sky. It was all the same colour. _He would not hurt Feliciano Vargas_ , and if he had to hurt for the rest of his life to make sure he didn't, he would.

Carefully recollecting himself, Ludwig sat back up and automatically went to smooth back his hair before he stopped.

0o0o0o

Ludwig pushed the front door open quietly, hands still stinging, and stopped dead. Gilbert stood on the stairs, giving him the same look he had been for a week-eyes narrowed in concern, body tense.

'Ludwig, what the hell did you do to your hair?'

'I dyed it,' he said defensively, shutting the door. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to fight with Gilbert ever. This was _his choice_ , such a small, harmless thing. It shouldn't matter to Vati or Gilbert, just like it shouldn't matter to anybody who he found beautiful.

'Yeah, you did.' Gilbert's mouth was twisting into that familiar grimace. 'You know Vati won't-won't like that.'

'I know.' He _did_ , that was some of why he had done it. Gilbert should understand that.

'No, you don't.' Gilbert jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'We need to wash it off.'

'No!' Ludwig's tipping-point emotions suddenly burst out of him.

'You aren't wearing that to the dinner table!' Gilbert snarled.

'I'm not washing it off.'

Gilbert glowered down at him for a moment. 'Come up here.' His voice was cold.

'Why?'

'I said, come up here. Or are you deaf as well as stupid?'

Ludwig followed, stunned. Gilbert _never_ said things like that to him.

Gilbert shut the door of his room behind them. Ludwig glanced at the walls. There were even more posters of models now, over the pictures of birds. Gilbert examined him, anger in his every glance until he stepped away.

'Why'd you do it?' he asked.

'Because I wanted to.' Because he wanted change and beauty and Feliciano and none of that could happen.

'No, you didn't.' Gilbert pointed at him, at his blue hair and his paint-spattered shirt. 'You did that to defy Vati. I thought you hated it when we fought, baby brother. Didn't I tell you not to take after me?'

'I'm not _taking after you!_ ' Ludwig shouted. 'Despite what you think, the entire world doesn't revolve around you, Gilbert! I'm doing all of this because I _want to_.'

'Or did you do it because he convinced you into it?'

The accusation shocked Ludwig. Even Gilbert stepped back, hands hooking in his pockets, but he didn't rescind the question.

'Feliciano-Feliciano wouldn't have done that. This was my choice.'

'You're supposed to be making better choices,' Gilbert said carefully.

'Because I'm the good kid?' Ludwig asked, eyes stinging.

'Because I don't want you to turn out like I did,' Gilbert said, hands curling into fists. 'Is that so hard to understand? Use that fucking brain of yours, I know you're ten times smarter than I am. You watched me break this family apart for years and now you turn around and do this.' He grabbed Ludwig's shoulders, eyes piercing down to his heart. 'What were you thinking?'

'I was thinking that for all your arguments, you might understand why I did this.'

'No. I don't. You're the one who doesn't understand.' Gilbert's hands trembled. 'You were able to leave with him whenever we fought. I couldn't so much as try to go downtown without causing another fight! I didn't want to fight, despite what you might have thought. You're-you're lucky, you have no idea, and now all of a sudden you're out of the house and then you come back like this, and Vati's going to be the same way.'

'No, Vati is better.' _Without you around_. 'And besides, I heard back when-back before, isn't he-'

'Don't say that,' Gilbert said sharply. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging hard. 'Why can't you be a little bit more...normal?'

'What do you mean by that?' Ludwig hated the tone in his voice. For a second, he couldn't understand why, until he realized it was like the pastor's when he said _unnatural_.

'You know what I mean.' Gilbert turned away. 'It's the same thing as always. You aren't immune to having people think you might be like that. Especially when you still come back from downtown high on your dreams. People will notice, and they'll hurt you. Just get yourself a girl, for God's sake. Anything but this.'

They stood there for a second before Gilbert dropped his head into his hands.

'God.' He looked up, eyes creased and dull. 'Does it come out?'

'Within a week or so, Feliciano said-'

'You shouldn't be doing that,' Gilbert said, and it was that more than anything that broke him. Ludwig grabbed his brother's shoulders and pushed him back.

'Don't talk about him like that,' Ludwig spat, roiling fury rising in his chest. He was willing to let Gilbert shout at him, but not let him accuse Feliciano.

'I'm not, I just-you know what he's like, you know he wears his heart on his sleeve. I just don't want you to get hurt! Is that so fucking hard to understand?' Gilbert was shaking, face red, and Ludwig wanted him to snap, to hit him, to break and hurt him. But Gilbert wouldn't do that, and Ludwig would not begin it.

'I can't change, Gilbert. Maybe you can-'

'I learned to hide it after I watched the man I love get bloodied in the street,' Gilbert said, so quietly it chilled.

'I can't,' Ludwig said, eyes stinging, throat thick. His head was fuzzy and his vision was blurry with tears or anger. 'Not anymore. I spent three years trying to change, trying to hide and it didn't work. I don't want to hide anymore.'

'You have to,' Gilbert said, and his touch through the paint-stained shirt was almost tender, almost sad, like Gilbert would hold him close and call him baby brother.

'You told me you knew because of the way I looked at Feliciano. Back when you cared.' Gilbert hands were too heavy on his shoulders.

'And you are still in love with Feliciano Vargas?' Gilbert asked softly.

'Yes.'

Gilbert's fingernails dug into his shoulders before he shoved him away, hard, and Ludwig's back hit the wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. The look in his brother's eyes was like it had been that day long ago before Gilbert left, horrible and wrecked and sad in a way, but raging with everything he hadn't let himself feel. Ludwig realized in that moment what he hadn't for years-that Gilbert didn't see things clearly, that his love was so hidden under hurt and pain and fear that he thought everything like softness was bad, when it was exactly the opposite.

'Take that dye out of your hair,' Gilbert said, voice shaking and cracking. He pointed to the bathroom. 'Get it out. Bleach it for all I fucking care.'

'Then we'd look alike,' Ludwig said. The reality hadn't sunk in yet, and he hurt, all over, like it was all a bad dream. But this was not a dream.

'We aren't alike, Ludwig.' Gilbert pointed at the door again. 'Not anymore. Get out of my room.'

He did. Gilbert slammed the door after him. Ludwig turned on the water in the sink and looked up one last time at the stranger that was his reflection. His hair wasn't normal when he finished, but it was pale blue like morning.

He turned around and left the silent, echoing house with the brother that had changed and changed him and started driving again. He thought it would be easier to leave Gilbert after what he'd done, but his heart felt like it was tearing and his chest was burning and Francis had been right, about hero-worship, because Ludwig would let Gilbert take even this from him.

But not for now, not for a precious few hours that were his to live, his to give to Feliciano, because if he was a fool for sacrifice, he would rather it be like this.

 **0o0o0o**

 **I need to truly deal with the familial relationships most of all.**

 ** _:: Pale blue skies in early autumn_**


	35. Chapter 35

**The end-where everything is better.**

 **0o0o0o**

This what Gilbert must have felt like when he left for the first time-the weight of other people's expectations and prejudice suddenly gone, all the walls falling away and allowing him to remake the world. The difference was that Ludwig wasn't his older brother, and running away was not what he did.

The bike shop pulled into view and Feliciano was there, the only steady point in the falling world, and Ludwig didn't want to stand up against the weight of a world entirely on his shoulders. Feliciano held him tightly.

'Your grandfather didn't-'

'Not him.' Ludwig realized dimly that he was shaking with anger and fear and everything else that only now was prickling underneath his tight skin, needing release. 'Gilbert.'

Feliciano's grip tightened and his fingers bit into the marks Gilbert had left.

'He _can't_ ,' he said, in the small and broken way people speak when they are hopeless.

'I just…' The sun was too bright, and his head pounded. 'Just want a drink. I'm going back tomorrow.'

Feliciano knew he wouldn't listen to a warning not to go back, but he had his limits.

'No drinking tonight,' he said firmly. 'You can stay with me, or you can drive around for a while and maybe think-'

'I'll stay.' He'd had enough of thinking.

'Okay.' Feliciano touched his arm and led him upstairs and into the loft.

When the door shut, they were alone in a small bedroom with the late sun gleaming through the closed shutters and reflecting off Feliciano's hair. He was perfect, had been since the first days, and he deserved better than this. Ludwig's heart hurt.

'Why are you letting me stay?'

Feliciano looked surprised. 'Because we're friends, Ludwig.'

 _Just friends_. But it was hard to remember that when it was just them alone with their memories and Feliciano was illuminated gold and _if he could just ask him, maybe_. 'That's not what I meant. I-I don't know how to _not_ forgive Gilbert. You know that tomorrow I'm just going to end up back like this.'

'I know.' Feliciano sat down next to him and slowly laid his head on Ludwig's shoulder, like he was waiting for permission. Ludwig almost laughed. He wanted this-couldn't Feliciano see that? He had always let people do what they wanted to him, but this was something he wanted, too, not something he ended up forgiving. Feliciano acted like he thought Ludwig would push him away for a touch and Gilbert tore up his world without thinking.

'I'm sorry,' Ludwig said, and leaned over-heart in his throat-and kissed the top of his head. Feliciano went still, and then leaned up to meet him, soft breath on his neck, golden eyes staring into his.

'What are you sorry for?'

'Being-' Ludwig felt like he was choking, Feliciano was so _close_ and he wanted this more than he wanted to keep breathing. _He was still in love with Feliciano Vargas_. 'Being like him when you said you loved me without him.'

'Are you worried I'd stopped?' Feliciano asked, eyes shining with tears, a strange smile slowly unfurling. 'I never stopped. Every time I kissed someone in Europe, I wished they were you.'

Oh God, he's so close, everything is thrumming inside his chest. 'So-so you don't-'

'I don't have a girlfriend.' Feliciano paused, and his hand caught Ludwig's hair and his next words were a rush. 'I thought you might, because you're beautiful and you-'

'They weren't like you,' he whispered, and the light played across Feliciano's face as he turned towards him, his eyes asking, asking, drinking in the details of their years apart, eyes on the ways he'd grown taller and the new muscles in his shoulders. Feliciano had a way of seeing him like he was his masterpiece, like every inch of him was better than Ludwig could see it himself.

'Ludwig…' Closer, fingertips touching his hip and curling behind his head, _wanting_. He never looked away.

Ludwig thought his heart would burst, he would shatter into stardust and drift in the sunbeams getting caught in his eyelashes, but he brushed a hand underneath Feliciano's eyes.

'You're staring,' Ludwig said, and his voice caught.

Quiet and the gold sun and their hands sliding across skin and tangling in hair and Feliciano laughed, a teary, incredulous thing and then they're kissing like they never stopped, like three years hadn't passed. _God_ , this is what Ludwig had been dreaming of, because he knew Feliciano better than he knew himself, because the planes of his body still fell together in the greatest masterpiece known to mankind and his voice gasping _Ludwig_ next to his ear was the most wonderful sound in the world.

'I've been _waiting_ ,' Feliciano said in a moment where they both caught their breath. 'To do that. Since I left. And since I came back. I didn't know-thought you might have changed, but I hadn't, and if you'd have given me a chance I'd have waited another three years for it.'

'I wanted it too. I just didn't want to hurt you,' Ludwig confessed. Feliciano laughed again and buried his face in his shoulder.

'You won't hurt me. Nothing this good can hurt.'

'Are you sure you want to do this? Want _me_?'

'You _especially_. And I-I'll be okay until the world is better. When people like us can hold hands in the street.'

'I'd like that.'

The idea of a safer world tingled through his bones. It would be a while until Ludwig stopped fearing the hurt his brother was so terrified of, and he kept expecting this to end, to wake up. But they lay there with Feliciano's hands in his hair and his mouth on the not-strong-now steppe of Feliciano's bare shoulder, shuddering like they're both waiting for someone to tell them no, but nobody comes and Feliciano's eyelashes are damp when Ludwig kisses him again.

They spend the night twisted together in the bedsheets, close like they had not been for years. It is like the night they ran with the storm in their hearts and got drunk off emotion, but tonight is a better high than anything, the only one he's never feared with their worship written in trembling hands and love confessions in every language they know, and Feliciano pulled his hair into spikes of morning colours. Ludwig touched Feliciano like he never had before. He had never known what pleasure really looked like on him, but this is it-hazy golden eyes and Italian he can't understand being almost slurred against his shoulder, skin slick and flushed red, curved heat pressed against his palms and his artist's hands pulling him close. He wanted to touch him carefully, because of fear of hurting him somehow, but this was not hurt-this was the raw golden emotion and heart of both of them in gasps and pleads, this was _right_ , filling his cracked-open eggshell chest cavity with glorious sunlight. Ludwig closed his eyes when the knot in his stomach pulled tight, finally able to say Feliciano's name all tangled together with _beautiful_ and _love you_ like he'd been accidentally doing for three years.

Feliciano curled close to him when they were finished and drowsy and Ludwig was deliriously happy. They fit together perfectly in his bed. Feliciano leaned up and ran a hand through his messy hair and said _sei bello_ , and Ludwig said _du bist wunderschön_ back because that was all that mattered, that Feliciano was the most beautiful person in the world.

0o0o0o

Ludwig woke up and the world felt right. The sun was shining in through the window onto the faint freckles across Feliciano's nose. Ludwig couldn't help staring, trying to see every detail of him, like the way his eyelashes were long and auburn and caught the sun or that he smiled in his sleep. He wanted to draw him suddenly, what he hadn't done in too long, wanted to become familiar again with everything he is.

Feliciano opened his eyes and Ludwig didn't have an excuse for staring, but Feliciano laughed and rolled over to kiss him, and so maybe he doesn't need to explain. The movement of their hands and mouths together now was not desperate and needy, but slow and soft. The kind of kiss that promises it will never be the last.

'I'm going to tell Vati,' Ludwig said against Feliciano's mouth. The idea and words had slipped out of his hazy dream-like thoughts, and he pulled back, unsure.

'I trust you,' Feliciano said. 'He has to be better this time. But if he isn't, I'm here.'

Ludwig didn't know the words to say how grateful he was in any language, so he just kissed Feliciano again, feeling more than a slight thrill at being able to, and the hot, pleased weight in his stomach at the way Feliciano hummed and arched against him.

He didn't want to leave, but life continues and so must everyone. He had to face his brother and his grandfather and find his place with both. His place with Feliciano-that was easy, because it was in his humming pulse.

'I love you,' Ludwig said, because he loved the way Feliciano's eyes lit up when he said it, and because it was _right_.

'I love you too,' Feliciano said, before they finally got out of bed to clean off.

They did not redye Ludwig's hair. He left it pale sky blue and pulled the collar of his shirt to hide the reddish mark on his shoulder. Feliciano touched it and they both shivered before Feliciano let go and Ludwig stood at the door, at the threshold of a new life.

'Gilbert…' Feliciano looked both pleading and determined. 'I know what you feel towards him. But nobody is allowed to hurt you and not have to prove themselves afterwards, not even him.'

That was the difference-that Feliciano did not hurt him, that he made the world make sense instead of telling him what it was.

'I know,' Ludwig said, and he did. He felt like smiling, strangely. He felt _brave_ , and willing to say things he didn't fully understand. 'Feliciano, the cornflowers where you used to live are still growing.'

Feliciano smiled. 'Just like you.'

0o0o0o

Ludwig took a cornflower to wear and pushed his hair back. He didn't know what he looked like, but he wasn't as much of a stranger to himself like he had been before. Cornflowers and music-that was what he belonged to here.

He opened the door. Vati and Gilbert were shouting at each other, only fighting when Ludwig couldn't hear them.

'We both wondered where you were for three years. What was I supposed to tell him? That you were too busy living life without him?' Vati asked.

'You should have told him what you told everyone. That I was the mistake, the one nobody wanted,' Gilbert spat back.

' _Enough_.'

Both fell silent to stare towards the door. Ludwig didn't feel angry, or numb, or broken. He felt brave in the way it took to look your older brother in the eye and know he wasn't perfect. He stepped in front of his grandfather. This was the end of silence and broken things.

'How many times have you fought since you came back?'

'Just this once,' Gilbert said, his body folding in, unwilling to meet his eyes. His hunting-bird older brother was never brave when faced with him. 'Because you were gone.'

'I need to talk to you,' Ludwig said, ignoring Vati behind him. He walked out, knowing that Gilbert would follow.

He stood between his and Feliciano's houses, staring at the sky, remembering all that had happened in the space between their windows. When he looked back, Gilbert was leaning against the side of their house, watching him.

'I shouldn't forgive you,' Ludwig said, but his voice cracked. He wasn't able to be cruel to his brother. They were birds with broken wings and hearts, both of them-unable to stay and unable to leave.

'That's what I don't understand, baby brother,' Gilbert said, so softly it was like it had been nearly eight years and Ludwig was ten and still learning what the world was. 'After what I've done, you can't even bring yourself to hate me. I see it in your eyes when we fight, that you want to hurt me, you want to make me feel what I've done to you.' His smile, broken like thin ice, showing the raw beginnings of life underneath. 'Why don't you ever do it? Everyone else I hurt has, and God knows I deserve it.'

'You wouldn't fight back,' Ludwig said, his throat thick.

'Of course I wouldn't. I don't want to hurt you.' Gilbert came closer and slowly, slowly wrapped arms around him. Ludwig let himself become smaller and protected like he hadn't been for years. Gilbert's next words were against the nape of his neck. 'But I do anyways. You never fought me when I kept running away, though. Isn't that enough payback?'

'I can't hurt you,' Ludwig said, the end choked.

'But I can hurt you.' Gilbert's hands awkwardly shifted over his hair. 'I have hurt you. I'm bad for you, I know. I'm the worst person for you. I fuck you up and leave you still trying to fit what I used to be. Baby brother, what you never understood is that you're _better_ than I am.'

'No,' Ludwig said automatically.

'Don't lie.' Gilbert chuckled faintly. 'Francis told you, too, about hero-worship? If you're worshipping anyone, it can't be me any longer.'

'What are you saying?'

'I'm saying that you need someone else. Someone who doesn't just take.'

 _Feliciano_. 'Who?' Ludwig asked.

'Your artist boy. Feliciano Vargas.'

Ludwig's heart jumped. 'You didn't want me with him.'

'That was wrong.' Gilbert let go of him. 'I'm...wrong about things. That's why I can't be your gospel anymore. I'm wrong about a lot of things and I-I'm _sorry_. But one thing I know is right is that Feliciano is better for you.'

'Are you telling me to…?'

'I'm giving my blessing.' Gilbert ruffled his hair, careful not to disturb the flower. 'You love him in a way I almost never see. You love like he is the _world_ , and-and I think that maybe, maybe you won't get hurt.'

'I was with him last night,' Ludwig whispered, his secret better when he was allowed to tell it to his older brother. Gilbert smiled.

'I thought you might be. You know what each other want now, right?'

Ludwig nodded. Gilbert grinned.

'It's about time.' He looked at the car. 'I'm going downtown to talk to Toni and Francis. You're going to tell Vati you're in love with him, aren't you?'

Ludwig didn't ask how he knew, just nodded again. The relief of everything had lifted off of him. He didn't need to run away to feel like floating, especially if he thought of Feliciano.

'Good man.' Gilbert clapped him on the shoulder and his hand lingered. 'You're almost eighteen, Ludwig. You are your own person, and not even I can take that away from you.'

Ludwig heard Gilbert drive off before he took a deep breath and pushed the door back open. Vati was sitting in his usual armchair. Ludwig sat down across from him. His bravery was gone, replaced by the usual feeling of being pinned by his grandfather's piercing eyes

'Do you remember Feliciano Vargas?' he asked, knowing the answer before it was spoken.

'I knew his grandfather.'

'I knew Feliciano.' And the words of _years_ of waiting and hiding spilled in patterns that didn't convey all that had ever happened. 'He's come back. He's the one who dyed my hair. And I am in love with him.'

Vati said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he took off his wire glasses and folded them in his lap.

'How long has it been going on?'

'Since we were younger.' Ludwig could remember exactly when he realized he'd fallen for Feliciano-sitting on his bed and watching the sun catch in his eyelashes-but in reality, he'd been in love for long before that.

'I had my suspicions.' Vati sighed, but had the hint of a smile. 'What people say was true-that you looked at him like he was the world.'

'Why didn't you turn me out like you did Gilbert?' Ludwig couldn't muster all of the anger he needed. Vati looked up, and his eyes were faded and tired.

'I didn't want to think you were like that. I'm sure you've heard how people-'

'Get hurt,' Ludwig finished.

'It's something both your brother and I experienced.' He turned to look out the window. 'I always thought that if things ever changed, they would be so far in the future it wouldn't matter. But you are the new generation, and you are different. Perhaps the world is changing, after all.'

0o0o0o

Feliciano laid on his bed in the autumn sunlight and thought. The weight of his grandfather was always there, but it was less today. Every day it got a little bit easier.

Life was complicated. Life threw you into huge cities with boys with midday sky eyes and gentleness and you fell for them, and then tore you away and left you dreaming, and now he was back and it was so easy to fall back into familiarity like they'd never left. Life was not perfect, but it was good, good, because you kept moving, and wonderful because you could heal and grow and love again.

Ludwig especially-he'd changed, and some of the changes were good because Feliciano couldn't keep his eyes off the new breadth of his shoulders. Some were worse, because Ludwig had tried to make himself into what he was not, everything his brother was, like hard eyes and running away, and it made him try so hard to be something he was not.

The worst part was always, always watching the man he loved destroy himself through forgiveness, which was supposed to be a gentle and good thing. Gilbert was sharp with his words and his decisions and Feliciano knew Ludwig would always forgive him, but he didn't have to. Most things were forgiven, but abandoning Ludwig was something that would take time to forgive.

Because all of this had been for a chance to see those sky blue eyes again, hadn't it? For a chance to have the wonderful thing they had once.

The memories flickered when he closed his eyes-gold heat and their voices twining and want in the air like the scent of the ground after rain. That night where they'd forgotten their three years apart and just _existed_ in each other was worth the world.

Feliciano wanted a world where people like them could be safer. He'd heard over and over that people like him who wore their hearts on their sleeves would only get hurt, but it had never been right for people to hurt because of beautiful things. There had been too much hurt in the world for love.

He heard the knock at the door and jumped up, grabbing the bag by his side. Ludwig was waiting, blue eyes bright and a smile curving across his face. It had been two months since their night, two months since Ludwig drove to see him and said between choking words that it was _okay_ , everything was okay now. Vati had accepted him, and Gilbert was better, and _this_ was where the healing could begin.

'Happy birthday!' Feliciano cried, and he couldn't help his smile. Ludwig leaned down to kiss him and Feliciano's heart _sang_ with the way he didn't even look around to see if people were watching.

Ludwig knew Feliciano's apartment in the bike shop now, and he set down a bag in the corner.

'What's that?'

'Flowers,' Ludwig said, and turned faintly red. 'Cornflowers. They would have died if I hadn't picked them.'

'You're not supposed to be getting me things, it's your birthday,' Feliciano jokingly accused. 'I got you more records from that Eno artist in Europe.' But that wasn't the real idea he had in mind, and it kind of was a present to Feliciano, too, and he just needed to come out and say it.

'You know how I told you that Lovi wasn't staying here forever?'

Ludwig stood up too fast. 'I-I know, are you-'

'No. Not if I don't have to.' Feliciano took a deep breath, his longing and nervous excitement still humming deep in his bones, remembering how he'd talked to his brother and told him everything. 'We're both eighteen now, Ludwig, and that means we're allowed to start making our own worlds, and I want mine to be with you. I don't know if this is a good decision but I think it is because you have always been, and Lovi and I are staying, at least for now, and maybe we can go back to Europe later-'

He was interrupted by Ludwig kissing him and decided that they could talk later, after he'd touched and been touched and had his hands in Ludwig's hair that he'd started to slick back as the remains of the dye faded. They did not make perfect decisions because it was not a perfect kind of world, not yet, and maybe it never would be, but they loved each other and beauty made the world wonderful.

Three hours later, Feliciano was painting a mural of a boy with blue eyes in the back of the shop when the door jingled and in walked his latest customer. Feliciano turned to help and stopped, unwilling to believe what- _who_ -he was seeing. White hair, white skin, red eyes and a smile that was less sharp than it had been before. Gilbert Beilschmidt, the man who'd hurt Ludwig and who Feliciano had almost forgiven, too, because Ludwig needed him, but he also needed to be himself. Gilbert was a conflict of emotion and he knew it, with his eyes slightly sad but with steely resolve.

'I want to dye my hair,' Gilbert said.

0o0o0o

His new records were crooning softly and Ludwig was drawing Feliciano from memory when Gilbert knocked on his door. He'd left in the morning, right before Ludwig had gone to see Feliciano.

'I was talking with Vati,' he said. Ludwig nodded absentmindedly, absorbed in his shading. He was drifting, and it was hard to remember that he was allowed to have his own time still. Gilbert made a sound like a short laugh and sat down on his bed. Ludwig could feel his nervous energy rolling off him. When Gilbert seemed to be waiting, he finally looked up and stopped.

'You dyed your hair.'

'Feliciano actually did it.' Gilbert ran a hand through his vibrantly red and blue-streaked hair. 'You like it?'

'I do,' Ludwig said, feeling himself smile.

'I know, it's an awesome look on me.' Gilbert hauled him up and just stood staring with a soft smile, like he was trying to memorize what Ludwig looked like.

'What are you doing?' Ludwig asked, almost hesitant to speak and break this, because he wanted his older brother to keep looking at him with that pride in his eyes.

'I'm giving you a choice,' Gilbert said gently. 'And it's yours entirely, baby brother, I'll obey your decision. I was talking with Vati, and I'm an adult now. I was thinking of moving downtown.'

The old fear woke back up in his bones, but Ludwig forced himself steady and braver. This was a choice.

'Why?'

'I told you. I'm the worst person in the world for you right now,' Gilbert said. 'You need someone who doesn't just take and take.'

'But if I tell you to stay, you will?'

'I will, I promise.' Gilbert tugged Ludwig's hair and pushed a hand through to the back, making it stand up and them look the same. 'And I'm getting better at staying here, aren't I?'

Ludwig didn't know what he wanted. He wanted his big brother to stay now that he was able to live without fighting, but maybe it was better to let him go. This was too much of a decision, this could break and hurt and he'd promised himself he wouldn't do that. He couldn't make his brother leave again.

'Why do you want to leave?' he asked, voice small, the voice he'd had when he was eleven.

'I'm just saying that birds need to be freed sometimes,' Gilbert said with a wry grin. 'But it's for you mostly. I'd love to stay, I love watching you grow up. But you aren't doing that with me around. I'm saying that you don't know who you are underneath what I've made you be, and I want to see who my baby brother is because I know he's _beautiful_. It's not forever, Ludwig. I will never leave forever so long as you need me. But it's for now. Give yourself a month or two to figure out who you are. With Feliciano, maybe.'

'A month or two,' Ludwig echoed. 'And then you'd-you'd let me see you?'

'Whole world just can't keep us apart, can it?' Gilbert pulled him close. 'I want to see you again, baby brother. I want to see you.'

'Okay,' Ludwig said, and knew it was a promise to let his wildfire brother free again-but also knowing he'd come back, with his hunting-bird loyalty. Until then, he needed to stretch his runaway wings.

Gilbert laughed exuberantly and spun them around, his multicoloured hair tangled.

'I'll see you soon. Sooner than you think.'

'Are you leaving now?' Ludwig asked, emotion closing off his throat.

'Not today. Today is yours. I can show you the place I've been thinking of tomorrow, it's near the music hall and-' And his big brother _blushed_ suddenly, his pale skin red. 'Well, Roderich is coming back. He's out of his old job and he got an offer here. I got a letter from him a few days ago, and we never really broke it off, so…'

'That's good,' Ludwig said, smiling, and everything felt right. It was okay to let Gilbert go like this, to figure out the world by himself. He'd have Feliciano beside him to make it all make sense.

0o0o0o

 _Venice, 1989_

The world had changed in ways Ludwig never expected. Feliciano Vargas-lovely and impossible and perfect Feliciano Vargas was standing beside him in the plaza with the windowsill flower boxes and their hands were twined. For the first time, he wasn't scared of being hurt from it. They would face the world together, like they had for years.

'We made it,' Feliciano said, and Ludwig knew exactly how he would look with tears in his eyelashes before he turned, but the sight of his golden eyes still took his breath away.

Venice was beautiful this time of year. Feliciano had been hinting about it for weeks, but somehow he had never exaggerated the way the setting sun painted the world into warmth.

This is what he needed-warmth and softness and a life of his own. Ludwig needed someone who could let him find out who he was without his older brother. He needed someone who knocked his heart wide open and made him rethink the world, who touched him like he was a masterpiece and who was his and had been since that first day where their lives had begun to grow together.

Ludwig wasn't made of firebrand hurricanes and wildness. His love didn't hatch from cannonballs and life on the edge, it came from the gold light in the afternoon and beautiful things. He needed cornflowers and paint and music on records and gold, in sunlight and eyes and high emotions, and Feliciano.

 _'Sei bello,_ Ludwig,' Feliciano whispered against his mouth, and Ludwig closed his eyes and squeezed his hand and kissed him in the late sunlight with light gleaming across their faces and onto the gold rings on their fingers, of his promise to the most beautiful person in the world.

 _'Du bist wunderschön_ , Feliciano.'

 **0o0o0o**

 **I'm sorry to let this go-it was a wonderful run.**

 ** _:: Letting yourself fall asleep earlier_**


End file.
